Harry Potter and the Foe Glass: Book Two
by Kingtopher
Summary: Sequel to the first Foe Glass book. Mark and Harry enter Hogwarts in the hopes that their lives might finally adopt a state of normality... unfortunate for them. The Foe Glass universe is only going to become more chaotic with this second entry as the young wizards work to unravel the mystery of who broke into Gringotts, what they were after and how to bring them to justice.
1. Orphans

**Harry Potter and the Foe Glass Book 2: Philosopher Stone**

**Ch. 1 Orphans**

**The shortly waited for sequel to the first Foe Glass book has arrived. As an added bonus the first three chapters of 'Quack Experimental Star Wars One-Shots' are being released simultaneously with this book.**

**The information for this book was taken between the movies and books alike.**

**Now for those who haven't read my first book, I'm going to try my hardest to make this story understandable without the first being read. If you don't understand why someone is here or who someone is go ahead and read the first book because it will most likely be explained.**

**In brief, however, the first book involved the tale of how Mark Dumbledore was given the important task of watching over, and generally befriending, Harry Potter while only being a child himself.**

**It took place one year before Hogwarts in a world where an entirely to manipulative Albus Dumbledore who keeps Snape under his thumb via a massive amount of confundus charms. **

**Snape happens to be the lucky one though, but that has yet to be established.**

**Well… Mark along with Harry conquers a series of increasingly dangerous threats that Mark predicts via his Foe Glass. A Foe Glass (seen in the series inside Professor Trewliny's classroom) is a crystal ball that lets you see your enemies by proximity then threat level.**

**Now if you skipped this introduction then I hope you understand what you read, if you didn't and you don't… well it's your own fault then.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter J.K. Rowling does**

* * *

><p>Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They happened to be the last people anyone would expect to believe in anything mysterious or paranormal, but that was just the Dursley's.<p>

Mr. Dursley was a rather robust gentleman with graying light brown hair and half the normal size of neck anyone should have. Along with that he sports a very bushy mustache and an ego to match size.

He worked for a firm called Grunnings, which manufactured in drills.

Mrs. Dursely, unlike her husband, was a petite woman with black hair and a neck of twice the normal size. This came in handy when she craned her way around the neighborhood looking over people's fences.

Yes she was quite the gossip and everyone knew and, did their best, to ignore her.

They were a happy little family with their son, Dudley, whom they thought of as the finest child in the world.

The Dursley's had everything they could possibly want, but they were also hiding something and it consumed every fear that they possessed that some day it might come out.

They couldn't bare the thought that someone might find out about them, those abnormal Potters.

Mrs. Dursley had a sister whom she hadn't seen for several years, in fact she spent most of her time pretending, and hoping, that she was an only child.

Then their was that good-for-nothing husband of hers, _ugh_, as far as any of them were concerned they were as un-Dursleyish as one might get.

It was also known that the Potters had a child of their own. Another fine reason to avoid them; they didn't want Dudley mingling with the likes of their little runt.

When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on a dull, gray, Tuesday is where our story begins.

Unbeknownst to them, however, mysterious occurrences were happening all across the country.

The father Dursley hummed an old navy tune and picked out his least flashy tie for work to fit with his work motto "Nothing inspires hard work like the mundane".

His wife, in the mean time, was wrestling Dudley into his hair chair, the rotten little youngster kicking all the way.

At half past eight, Mr. Dursley came down stairs. With a bit of money for a light breakfast and a peck on cheek to the Mrs., he was ready to walk out the door.

He would have done the same for little Dudley, but Dursley's son was to busy wearing his food and kicking the wall.

"Little tyke", Dursley chuckled as he got into is car.

The day seemed to be progressing lovely when Vernon Dursley noticed something at the end of the street; a cat with odd markings around its eyes was reading a map.

No.

Cats cannot read. Surely it was just a piece of debris that the alley cat had found a liking to, but when Vernon looked back the map was gone. Instead the cat was reading the street sign.

No.

Looking at the street sign. Cats cannot read.

The thought perplexed him, but he soon forgot it in the early morning traffic. A massive traffic jam had formed on the route to Vernon's work.

"Huff", he sighed, well this was the reason he left so early everyday.

As he moved onward another thing began to catch his eye, dozens of people were walking around in funny looking cloaks.

Now this was something that Vernon purely detested, people who dressed oddly. Probably some young people fad.

But wait! Was that a man wearing a large emerald-green cloak? He must have been older than Vernon himself.

They must be some kind of activists, preparing a demonstration of some kind. Yes… that was clearly it, why else would anybody dress in such an odd manner?

The rest of Vernon's ride was spent trying to ignore all the odd people out and about and focus on the huge order of drills he hoped to receive today.

Despite all the owls he saw seemingly everywhere it went, his day did go very well.

Vernon arrived just in time, yelled at all the right people of course, and by midmorning, he had felt deserving of a pastry from the bakery across the street.

On his way threw the parking structure he bumped into a small man and knocked him down. He was about to outstretch his hand to help him up when he noticed he was wearing a violet cloak.

"Oh, um, sorry about", Vernon said as he tried to help him up regardless of his clothes. What if someone had seen him knock him down without helping it up, it would ruin his reputation.

The old man instead leaped up and began vigorously shaking Vernon's hand, "No need to apologize my friend, for this is a glorious day! Even you muggles have reason to celebrate the end of he-who-must-not-be-named's reign of terror!"

Mr. Dursley was a bit off stricken by being called a "muggle", whatever that was, but he continued his day despite this once again.

As he walked down the street to the bakery he saw a couple of those cloaked freaks talking outside. Vernon couldn't help but overhear a wee bit.

"-The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard-"

"-And their son, Harry-"

Vernon Dursley's rosy face turned as white as snow. He almost fell to the ground as fear began to consume his mind.

Did they just say Harry? And Potter?

Now Potter, that was a dreadful, common name. There must be many a Brit with that last name, but Harry? Was his nephew's name even Harry?

It was true that he must have been over a year old by now, but Vernon Dursley had yet to see his nephew. Better to avoid them, was Vernon's policy.

Then there was his wife, Petunia. Vernon hated the Potters, but she seemed to completely despise her sister and her family. Vernon couldn't blame her though, he couldn't imagine having a sister like _that_.

Now that he thought about it, was his nephews name even Harry? It might have been Harold or even Harvey, but he was now assured by the means of his own self-denial that it couldn't be Harry.

The rest of his day went much the same as the beginning, with cloaked people everywhere and owls swarming the sky.

As he pulled into number four Privet drive, Vernon's mood had not improved at all.

And that blasted cat now by HIS garden! This was making him rather moody, but he couldn't help but smiling as he entered his home with his wife and baby boy waiting for him.

What a fine and normal family Vernon had. His life was in perfect order and he wouldn't have it any other way.

As Vernon pulled into his lovely and tidy home, his wife, whom handed a big cup of coffee, greeted him.

Mr. Dursley, of course, was used to this as what just the Mrs.'s way of opening up dialogue. She knew all too well that he couldn't help but listen when sipping a cup of her delightful coffee.

So as to his normal schedule, Vernon listened to what 'Mrs. Neighbor lady' was doing with 'Mr. Mailman' and all the other daily details of Privet drive.

Along with that he was delighted to hear his son had picked a new word today (Won't). What a talented boy!

After his wife finished her ranting, it was finally time for Vernon to sit back and watch the evening news, already in session.

"Meanwhile, bird enthusiasts everywhere have reported odd owl sightings all throughout the countryside. Quite contrary to their usual nighttime hunting strategies eh? Since sunrise the birds have been seen flying in massive flocks over anywhere from farmland to city streets. Experts are currently unsure why the owls have changed their sleeping patterns".

The newsman smiled at these odd occurrences, _"Now we go to weather with Jim McGuffin. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim"._

"_Well Ted", _the weatherman began,_ "I don't know about owls, but there has been many odd fireworks out today along the cities of Kent, Yorkshire and Dundee. It appears that they are calling in about that rain I promised yesterday, instead they got shootings stars"._

The anchor took back the camera view, _"How peculiar. On the topic of Kent, A strange fire destroyed a town hou-"_

Click

Vernon had seen enough of this news. It was time to talk to his wife about this.

Owls, shooting stars, mysterious people in cloaks and a whisper! A whisper about Harry Potter. This was just too specific to write off as coincidence.

Just in time for Vernon to finish his coffee, Petunia came into the living room with two cups of tea. He cleared his throat nervously.

"Er- Petunia", Vernon began, "Have you heard from your sister recently?"

As per usual, Petunia looked at him in a shocked look that one might usually reserve for a murder, or a nasty criminal. After all, they usually pretended she had so sister.

"No", she said sharply, "Why?"

"Well, um… you see… the news has said the funniest things", Mr. Dursley mumbled, "Owls… shooting stars… and funny looking people in cloaks today…"

"_So?_" snapped his beloved wife.

"Well, it occurred to me as I walked down to buy a pastry this morning that they might be, you know, of her crowd"

Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea in great tension over this new discovery. Her husband on the other had sat with stress so great that he actually began to perspire over whether he dared to tell her he had heard the name 'Potter' or not.

Instead he chose a somewhat safer tactic.

"Their son- he'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't he?"

"I suppose so," his wife muttered coldly.

"What was his name again? Howard, isn't it?"

"Harry. Nasty, common as muck name, if you asked me."

"Oh yes" he said as his spirits sank to nothing, "I quite agree."

The poor old fool couldn't bear another word after this last toss at his reserves.

He went up to his bathroom and decided to get ready for bed. It just wasn't worth the stress.

Meanwhile on the street, long after the veil of night had fallen, another confrontation was about to begin.

At the end of Privet drive a bang similar to a gunshot could be heard as a very tall, and very old, man walked down the street. He had flowing silver hair that went down to his waist and a beard of equal length. On his rather crooked nose rested a pair of half moon spectacles.

He wore a large purple cloak, from which he pulled an engraved silver lighter.

After clicking it twelve times, every light on the block was consumed into the casing, and then he shut it.

The only light remaining were the bright balls of the cats eyes, which had not moved for since that morning.

The old man walked with a casual stroll down the street until he went to face the cat.

"And what might you be doing here Minevera?" he asked with glint of humor twinkling in his bright eyes.

Before him the cat turned into an extremely stern looking women, wearing a flowing green cloak with an annoyed look on her face.

"How did you know it was me, professor Dumbldore?" she asked in reply.

"Why my dear Minevera, I've never seen a cat sit so stiff", he said in a joking way.

"You'd be stiff too, if you sat on a brick wall all day", said professor McGonagall.

"All day you say? When I was kind enough to give everyone the day off? You should have been out and about celebrating with the others", Dumbledore commented as he looked at the Dursley's home, "I must have seen a dozen parties on my way here today".

She sniffed angrily, "Yes, partying. It seems in just one day everyone has forgotten all about the fact that we are a secret society". She looked at the television in the Dursley living room, "Even the muggles have begun to notice. Fireworks… owls… and many members of our world wandering about without any disguise".

"You can't really blame the fools", Albus said in reply, "We have had precious little to celebrate these past few years".

"I know", said professor McGonagall irritably, "But that does not make an excuse for so openly gallivanting about without so much as a concealment on their activities. People are spreading rumors you know. About what really happened".

She cast a sideways glance at Dumbledore and continued, "It would be a fine thing if the day you-know-who disappeared our society was discovered. He is gone isn't headmaster?"

"It does appear so doesn't it?" he reached inside his pocket and pulled at a small bag of candies, "Lemon drop?"

"A _What_?"

"Why, lemon drops of course. They are a muggle sweet I have grown quite fond of over the years."

"No thank you", she said coldly as if this wasn't an appropriate time for lemon drops, "If it is true that you-know-who has gone-"

"Professor _please_, I would think that you were a bit to smart to fall into that old habit. Fear of the name only increases fear of the thing itself. Call him Voldemort".

Professor McGonagall flinched, but Albus was a bit busy removing two lemon drops that had stuck together.

He continued, "Honestly I've never known why people have ever been scared of calling by his name in the first place. It gets confusing with all this you-know-who nonsense, just call him Voldemort."

"Well that may be easy for you to say", Professor McGonagall said, "We both know that you were the only one that you-know-oh, all right, Voldemort, was ever frightened of".

"You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly, "He had powers that I know not".

"Okay, but the owls are nothing compared to the rumors that have been flying around. What was it that finally stopped him?"

It had appeared that McGonangall had finally reached the point in the discussion that she had been pointing to all evening. Neither as cat nor women had she given Albus as piercing a look as she did now.

And he could feel her trying to pierce more that just his gaze.

"Legitamency will get you nothing from me, professor", the Headmaster of Hogwarts said with his humor turned suddenly cold.

"I'm sorry professor, but I had to know", she said causally trying to change the subject from the fact that she had just attempted to read a master legitamens mind, "I felt you wouldn't tell me".

"That is were you are wrong", he said as he reached slowly to his cloak pocket, "I was about to sing like a canary".

If it hadn't been for the lack of light McGonangall might have seen him point his wand towards her head, but as it is, she did not see.

"Now my dear professor, I'm afraid you've seen just a bit to much if you know where this house is", Dumbledore said coldly.

"You can't possibly mean? The rumors are true aren't they!" she exclaimed in hushed excitement.

"They are in deed", he replied coldly, "And this is where the boy is to spend his days. Stan, is that you in the distance?"

Professor McGonagall turned to see a rather stout man in an urban camouflage styled cloak walking forward. He had short brown hair in a military style and a serious of scars that implied his combat uniform wasn't just for show.

"I have surveyed surrounding landscape and set up a base camp for my surveillance detail", Stan said in a rough accent.

"Excellent my American friend, so everything is prepared for the arrival of the package then?" The headmaster asked as his ally walked into their little circle in front of the house.

"Yes", Stan said in reply, "Are you positive that these charms on this place will hold seventeen years? I placed magic sensors all around the city and this house isn't being picked out over any other."

Albus chuckled, "This is an ancient magic you know not Stan. They will hold".

McGonagall, who had been watching this little exchange in utter surprise had realize what it meant that Stan was here in the first place.

"You there, American. You are obviously one of the elite warrior _warlocks_ we all have heard so much about, but America pulled back all of their troops after the third year of the war with Voldemort. Here you are eight years later", she said in disbelief.

The American changed his gaze to the professor, "Who is she? I was under the impression that the only three people to be at this meeting would be you, the transport, and myself."

The headmaster of Hogwarts laughed once more at his employee's confusion.

"It appears she discovered the location before I was made secret keeper of this residence. She is one of my better and more free thinking teachers", he replied with I twinkle in his gaze.

"Why are _you _here in the first place, Stan is it? Rumors of what took place last evening have been spreading all across our world and now some American soldier shows his face in some remote muggle settlement."

The three were interrupted by the sound of a motorcycle in the distance.

"Well my dear friend, McGonangall, it appears our time has run out", Dumbledore said coolly as he lit the wand he had been pointing at her for the past five minutes.

"Whatever do you mean-?"

"Obliviate"

The transfiguration teacher fell to the ground, unconscious from the sudden rearrangement of her memories.

"Stan, I would appreciate if you could take her back to Hogwarts grounds… unseen".

"Yes, sir" the American combatant said with a salute.

With that, Stan tossed McGonagall over his shoulder and apparated away, leaving Dumbledore with the upcoming Hagrid.

The half-giants tearful goodbyes did tug on the Headmasters heart, but he assured him that this was not goodbye forever…

After all, he had plans for Harry Potter.

_~The Previous Morning in America~_

The morning began early for Brian Dumbledore. After all, when you were the proud owner of your very own magic shop you didn't have time to sleep.

Of course this wasn't real magic after all, now that would be absurd. Showing real magic to the greater part of Chicago? The government would have his head for that.

Not to say magic wasn't real. On the contrary, Brian Dumbledore, his wife Jane, and their one-year-old son were a few of the registered wizards that the government kept a tab on.

The reason Brian couldn't sell anything of real magic was, despite the fact that the highest levels of muggle government (i.e. president and his secret service) knew of magic's existence, that is were it ended.

No one outside the small communities of wizards that sprouted up in major cities knew of magic's existence and they were under the strictest orders to never reveal their powers to the general public.

Of course there is always the occasional mishap, u.f.o sightings, ghosts, and other such things, but the government always managed to cover it up.

None of this truly concerned Brian though, he was a clever man who, although his career is in selling magic, he has never once come close to revealing this secret.

Even if he had it wouldn't have mattered, his skill with memory charms is remarkable. When he went to magical school he even pursued courses based on that skill.

His professors begged him to pursue a career in something involving the mind, but he was a humble man and when he married his wife he decided it would be best for him to take the sure thing instead of pursuing a job in a line of work that didn't have many employment opportunities for a man who wouldn't have a pliable degree due to the nature of his school.

Thus he decided to take up his uncle's offer and letting him take ownership of one of his properties. Things started small, just a little conjuring to make some party favors, and soon he became the premier magic shop of lower Chicago.

It had been five years since then and life was wonderful.

Brian himself was a tall and somewhat lanky man with black hair and vivid blue eyes. He was the kind of man that people decided they could trust after looking at him once. For his work as a shop owner he usually wore an old magician's tuxedo.

His wife was a year younger than him and she never hesitated to remind him that of that fact. Jane had long, brown hair and hazel eyes. She was a beautiful woman and often helped Brian by posing as his _assistant_ for the occasional promotional performance.

Their son, Mark, was a bit tall for one year old and was quickly learning how to walk. He had black hair and blue eyes like his father, despite that when people looked at him they saw more of his mother from the way his face looked.

Brian chuckled as he walked over to his son's crib and saw him kicking in his sleep. Yes his life was wonderful.

No rent too, because the building that they set up shop in had two more stories in which they lived.

After kissing his wife's cheek, as she was still asleep given it was five in the morning, he walked downstairs to check inventory. Afterwards he would adjust any un-orderly merchandise.

Then he goes up stairs to wake his lovely wife and rambunctious little son. Perhaps afterwards, if time allows, he would enjoy a light breakfast.

After all, you can't work on an empty stomach.

First thing's first, inventory.

Hmmm, everything seemed to be in order. The love charms, the fake crystal balls, and lets see… the imitation magic brooms, did someone actually try to sweep with one of those? Its edges are so frayed.

"Oh well", Brian thought, "I suppose I can always sell it as special style".

The young store keep then continued to open up the metal shutters. The early morning light shined in bringing new life to the tidy, little shop.

"Ah, what a pleasant day for Halloween", Brian said cheerfully, "With weather so nice, I'm sure to get plenty of last minute decorators and costume seekers".

He took care of the frayed broom and walked back up the steps to his humble home. His home might seem fine at first glance, but there was a bit more to it than that.

As a magic shop, you tend to attract a very limited clientele and business was poor. The Dumbledores had to discontinue their insurance plan in order to keep the water running.

They did, however, have very high hopes that this Halloween might be just the spur to kick up some new commerce.

He was very pleased to find his wife already up and about fixing up some breakfast. Little Mark was in the meantime trying to stumble his way across the floor with a look of pure determination on his face.

"Keep it up son. You'll get it down in a month or two", Brian said as he tussled his boy's hair.

His wife turned around in joy to see him back upstairs so soon, "I thought you weren't going to be done taking stock for another hour."

"Well, I was very enthusiastic yesterday if you remember", he told his wife.

"Oh I do, you wouldn't sit still in bed last night. I could barley get to sleep", she said with a smile.

"Ya, after you finally did manage to sleep I jumped back into my work clothes to finish up that display I told you about", Brian said as he smiled back at his wife.

"The one with the wizard hat and the old staff?" she asked.

"That's the one!" He answered with enthusiasm.

Brian gave his wife a kiss and sat down, propping his son up onto his knee. He ate the rest of breakfast while trying to get his boy to say 'daddy'.

After breakfast it was time to go back down to run the shop for the day.

The rest of the morning and well into the afternoon went without a hitch. Many customers walked in and out spending all the while.

For the longest time it seemed that the Dumbledore's financial troubles were finally over.

By mid-afternoon Brian took a lunch break at the diner across the street. With his stomach now full of delectable deli style sandwiches, he was ready to face the much busier afternoon.

And what an afternoon it proved to be. The young man sold enough memorabilia and fake magic gags to double his profit for the entire month of October.

With this income, not only would they be able to pay to re-insure the building, but also buy the material necessary to patch the leaky roof just in time for the winter months.

After a long day of work, long after darkness had fallen over the city landscape, Brian dragged himself up the spiral staircase in the middle of the shop to his home.

Once again his wife and son were ready and waiting to greet him.

"Here, I brewed a bit of coffee for you. It's not very fresh though, I thought you would be done hours ago", Jane said warmly as she handed her husband a mug of black coffee.

Brian gladly accepted it and thanked her, "Well, it might not be to fresh but it sure is delicious. Did you anything special to it?"

She looked at him with eyes full of appreciation, "No, it's the same as always, but thank you for the compliment".

"Any time dear", he said as he took a large swig. His gaze then drifted from his wife to his boy, "How has your day been Mark?"

The infant looked up at his father and laughed a little bit.

"What's so funny?" he asked the child.

His wife laughed a bit at him to, "Ha, you're upper lip, its covered in coffee".

Brian looked in a mirror and saw what they meant. He then felt his lip.

"A bit scraggly", he commented as he wiped his lip, "I think I need to shave."

"Well you could grow out a beard, didn't your father have one?" she asked her husband.

He took out the only tie he had to his father from his pocket, a picture of him that was labeled Ableforth. The man in the photo moved around a bit as any magical picture does. Brian put the picture back in his wallet.

"He did have quite the beard didn't he?" he thought out loud, "Maybe I will grow one. It could only help business to have a long wizard beard."

His wife pouted a bit, "There you go again with business. Why can't you relax a little? _Huff, _I suppose if we are on this topic we might as well discuss today's profit."

This had been what Brian had waited to hear. He pulled out a small metal box with a pad lock on the top. From the inside he showed his wife a large amount of the days income.

"You must be joking! Are little shop managed to scrape together that much in one day!" Jane exclaimed in delight.

"This isn't even all of it. I've got some set aside in our private fund so when the time comes we can get Mark a proper wand", he said as he shut the box.

"That is terrific!" she cheered out as she jumped into a hug in her husbands open arms.

_Crash!_

"What was that!" Jane screamed as she held Brian tighter.

"Probably just someone trying to get my attention. Perhaps somebody missed closing time and wanted to buy something", he said logically, "Keep Mark close while I check it out".

She nodded and grabbed their son in her arms and carried him away, much to his annoyance. Brian then walked right back down his stairs, leaving the money behind.

He pulled a fake wand off a shelf that doubled as a flashlight and shone it out over the store. His real wand, in the mean time, was safely within a sheaf on the inside of his tuxedo sleeve.

"Anyone there?" he called out over the shop.

The young man turned his flashlight wand to face the large windows that held his displays. As he flashed the light he saw something that shocked him.

Even though his iron shutters had been drawn down for the evening there was a huge hole threw the window and metal alike.

"How did-" he thought aloud as he heard a low panting noise, almost like an animal, coming from the corner, "Who's there! I warn you, I'm armed!"

He steadily walked around his shelves in the pitch-black darkness, with nothing but a dim light and his knowledge of the surroundings to guide him. Brian pointed his light were he heard the noise.

"Bloody Hell", he said in a quiet voice.

In the corner, gasping for breath like a wild beast was what looked like a man, but with a twist.

It was hunched over Brian, it was clothed in a long dark cloak that coverer the view of it's legs with a hood over its head. Its skin was a pale, bone white, that was completely smooth without any hair to be seen. The arms emerged midway threw the forearm out of the cloak sleeves; they held skeletal hands with sharp nails.

Most disturbing of all, however, was the face. The nose was normal enough, but there were no ears, just holes that were barely visible underneath the hood. The eyes were pitch black as if they belonged on dolls. Most disturbing of all by far was the mouth. It was wide open in a giant grin that literally went from ear to ear, bits of blood and saliva dripped from the sharp teeth and thin lips.

Just at that moment it looked up. "Guuuuuuuugh", it groaned lengthily.

Once it finished it charged.

"Ahhh!" Brain exclaimed in shock at the sudden attack, he drew his wand and quickly cast a spell to defend him, "Protego Maximus!"

A shimmering shield defended him on all sides. The beast hit it repeatedly, testing its limits. In the process of constantly charging mouth first the monster knocked over half the shelves.

"My inventory!" the young Dumbledore said in rage, "You've done it now beast. Out of all the shops in lower Chicago, you chose the wrong one! Stupefy!"

Red stunning shots came out of his wand as the creature ran a hunched over serpentine with its arms swinging at its sides.

Then the monster pulled out a wand of its own and returned fire.

Unlike Brian's wand that was a professionally made wand of oak with a dragon vein core, this enemies was a cracked a charred with bits of unicorn hair sticking out at odd angles.

The creature shot green blasts that began to break the shield.

"How is that possible? Petrificus Totalus!" Brian questioned the enemies actions as he shot a more powerful spell, "The only thing that could break a barrier this powerful would be…"

Brian dived down to the floor as he saw his theory prove true. He kept alive owl in the shop to spur business, but behind him it hung dead without a mark on it.

The fiend was shooting the killing curse at him.

The young man did his best army crawl behind a fallen shelve and started firing another wave of stupefy.

"Aroooou!" the beast cried out as a shot nicked it.

Brian risked looking up to see what was going on. To his complete despair, the creature was climbing his stairs in great bounds.

Bang!

"Jane!" he yelled as he followed into the lit home.

All the debris that it had left on its wake delayed his progress.

He panted himself after sprinting up the spiral staircase. When he reached the upper floor he was disturbed at what he saw.

His home, all his carefully and painstakingly earned belongings, was destroyed. The sound he had heard the moment before must have been some kind of potent explosive spell.

Brian quickly leaped his way threw all his destroyed possessions. He was guided by the incessant sound the beasts infernal panting.

Inside his room he saw a scene of conflict.

His wife was exchanging blasts for blast with the monster as she held Mark in her other arm. Brian ran in the room with appreciation for his wife.

The beast itself seemed to be deteriorating with every moment.

"Brian!" she yelled as let loose a flurry of stunning spells, "Take Mark and set him outside!"

He nodded to his wife and grabbed their son from her. Then the beast began sending out killing curses once more.

Every shot seemed to make the creature fade away into dust a bit more as if it couldn't harness the power to attack from its magical core, so it used its own life force instead.

A shot went right threw went right threw Jane's shield and into her chest. She was dead before she hit the ground.

"Jane!" He yelled at his wife's body.

The beast turned to face him, but as it did its entire form wavered and imploded into itself. It was there for a moment and then nothing.

Mark squirmed out of his father's arms and did his best to run to his mother.

"Momma!" the little boy said as he pushed her back and forth, "Momma wake up".

Brian Dumbledore picked up his son and took him to his crib. After that he prepared for the government inquiry that was sure to follow after such a repetitive use of combat spells.

In the hours that followed, his life began to sink more and more into despair.

The government officials did come, Brian thought they would help, but instead they did the unthinkable.

When he explained what had happened not only did they not believe his story of 'some grotesque fiend assaulting his home' they assumed that given he was the only magic user in the mile area and his wife laid dead he was the cause.

Needless to say, they snapped his wand and left his home in shambles.

Brian attempted to contact his in-laws about what had happened, but when the official government statement regarding his case and they decided that he killed their loved one they discontinued communication.

After a series of legal fights, and Mark showing utter disdain towards his mothers parents, Brian managed to gain custody of his son. Under extreme supervision of course.

Thus began Brian Dumbledore's meager existence as a poverty stricken muggle.

His home for five years taken from him, his savings confiscated, and his only blood relative alive being his son, he lived a hard life.

He was a broken man and in future years this would feed Mark's ambitions for greatness.

At this point the chain of reactions that made Mark Dumbledore the guard of Harry Potter began.

* * *

><p><strong>Ch. 1 Book 2 complete. Who's back story is more depressing, Mark's or Harry's? Comment your decision and I'll post the majority in the next chapter.<strong>


	2. Just a Normal Trip to the Zoo

Harry Potter and the Foe Glass: Book Two

**Ch. 2 Just a Normal Trip to the Zoo**

**Well with the close of chapter one, so to closes the back-stories. For now we shall pick back up where the plot of the first book dropped off… with a two-month time skip of course.**

**Disclaimer: If you haven't realized I don't own Harry Potter by now you are a fool indeed.**

Approximately ten years had passed since the young Harry Potter had been dropped off at the Dursley residence, but if you didn't know better you'd assume Harry had never arrived at all.

The Dursley home was very posh and comfortable, full of pictures commemorating the life of their boy. Pictures of his achievements, though meager they might be, and other such things.

Recently a small photo of Harry had been laid without a frame on top of the television. It was of the day that he received a certificate commemorating his high I.Q. level. The Dursleys, of course, assumed it to be a mistake, but after being sufficiently convinced that there long thought moron of a nephew was a genius, they accepted it.

That still didn't stop them from trying every means possible to give their own son the same privilege. As it has been proven time and time again that Vernon would never allow that 'Potter' spawn to have opportunities that were denied to his precious little Dudders.

Unfortunately enough for them, Dudley proved to be the real moron.

As it turns out, all that coddling and being told how special he was destroyed any ambition to improve himself. Thus, Vernon turned his only child into a self-entitled, and rather portly, whelp.

Harry would feel sorry for his cousin, as Dudley was destined to become the most troublesome brute to ever roam Little Whinging. He would feel sorry for him, except for some nasty business regarding Dudley joining a mob trying to basically kill him…

Needless to say, their relationship took on an entirely new level of strain after that little episode.

They probably would have succeeded in catching Harry to if it hadn't been for Mark. That kid had saved his life countless times in the past year and became his first friend.

Yes the last year had been kind of hectic, but did have one positive benefit. After experiencing life in such an unstable environment for so long, nothing surprised or bothered Harry.

"**Get up now, Potter!"** Dudley yelled while stomping his feet down on Harry's cupboard.

Yes, annoying, but completely livable.

"I've been up for hours Dudley", Harry yelled as he put away his book.

He had dreamt his favorite dream again last night, the one were he was in a flying motorcycle. After reading it, the boy couldn't help but read about what it would actually take to make a bike fly. One day he would make his dream reality.

Despite his fluttering imagination, Harry couldn't help but put on a sour face given what day it was.

He dressed in his best hand me downs and walked to the kitchen. He started up the stove and began to cook up some eggs, which he wanted but wouldn't be given. Then he brought some grape fruit, which he was sick of but would have to eat.

If only Aunt Petunia had let him plant a garden like he had been planning the last few months of school, but alas, his aunt did not agree.

"There you are", Aunt Petunia said as she walked into the kitchen, "Ah, good. You're in your better clothes".

The reason she said better was because Harry had no really good clothing.

His aunt continued in a tone that one might use on their hired help, "I want everything to be perfect for Dudley's special day, so you shall open a fresh package of bacon and cook it in its entirety. Also you will need prepare two extra eggs for Dudley's young friend, Carter, who will be arriving shortly."

Harry grunted at Carter's name.

It had two months since Carter had decided to retake his bid for schoolyard bully after Harry and Mark had ruined his image. Since then, even though Carter had bullied Harry previous to this event for pointless reasons, it had since become very personal.

"Don't be so snippy, I won't have you ruining today with your sulky attitude" she said bossily as Harry fried a pile of various breakfast meats.

She walked out of the room and left Harry alone with his cooking implements and the pile of Dudley's presents that covered the kitchen table.

It looked as though the chubby lad got the second television he wanted, along with that racing bike he had been eying. Why Dudley wanted a racing bike remained a mystery to Harry, he never bothered to look at a bike let alone ride one.

But as it remains, Dudley gets what Dudley wants.

Just then, Vernon Dursley walked in. He sat and began reading his newspaper. Harry quickly laid some food on his plate, as a full Vernon was an indifferent Vernon.

He looked up from his paper and barked at Harry, "You need another haircut, boy. Even if your so-called _I.Q._ is _high_ you're never going to get anywhere in life with unruly hair. Not that you were going to go anywhere anyways."

Harry simply nodded as he set up a few extra plates on the table. Harry had long since learned that it didn't matter how many times his hair was cut, it would grow back almost over night.

One time Vernon had completely shaved his head, but the next day his hair was back to full length.

What really got to Harry was the 'you'll never go anywhere' comment. Nevertheless he couldn't let Vernon know that this insult was making any form of impact, or the fat fool might use it as his new motto.

"Yes sir", the young Potter said in a rehearsed tone, "Whatever you say sir."

"Right you are Potter, whatever I say", the man smirked, "Now be prepared, the birthday boy will be here shortly."

As he finished those very lines the pounding on the floorboards of heavy feet indicated that Dudley had indeed arrived.

"Where's are they?" Dudley asked in a demanding tone, "Where are my presents?"

Petunia followed her son and sat him down in front of the second largest plate of food. Harry took of whether Dudley would ever eat more than his father. Dudley's pile of food was massive, but it is hard to compete with Vernon.

"There they are my boy", Vernon said with hope of avoiding his sons wrath, "You may count them if you wish."

After a few minutes where Harry could almost see the smoke coming out of Dudley's head, he managed to count his gifts.

"There are only thirty-four! There was thirty-six presents last year!" Dudley's face began to go purple, never a good sign in this household.

His father quickly intervened, "Look son, you haven't counted that one there. See the one from your Aunt Marge, underneath the big one."

"That's still only thirty-five! It's still one less", the boy pouted openly, causing a very awkward attempt by the far more intelligent Carter to avoid looking his way.

The last thing that the young Drake wanted was for Dudley to realize he was making a fool of himself in front of his friend.

This time Petunia spoke up, "Well we are out at the zoo we can pick you up two new presents, how does that sound, hmm?"

After two seconds consideration the tyrant Dursley boy nodded and the five of them piled into Uncle Vernon's car.

* * *

><p>Mark Dumbledore was having a terrible morning.<p>

First, he had _that _dream again. The one were he was swallowed hole by that strange pale monster as his mother screamed.

Second, after Snape's grand arrival back to his Little Whinging residence, the old bat began a regiment of potions lessons more physically and mentally straining than any independent studies he had achieved the entire year.

It wasn't even that Mark had failed any of the convoluted challenges the potions master had given to him when he arrived, on the contrary he passed the entire first year potions exam with the highest marks and had received more than passing levels on the second year midterm testing.

After Mark's success Snape simply gave his signature smirk and decided to triple his studies.

When Mark asked why he was pushing him so hard, he muttered something softly like, "Can't get out of practice with teaching now can I?"

Finally, the third thing that had ruined the young Dumbledore's morning was the news that Harry was going to be on a trip outside of the safety of Little Whinging.

It wasn't that the boy was scared, just um… okay he was lividly terrified.

Times like this he really hated the Dursleys, but that is beside the point. It was time to go to Severus's den to be briefed on what he was going to do for this oh so important assignment.

"Sir, um I'm ready to head out now", Mark muttered while looking at the ground and kicking the ground casually.

"Not quite yet, whelp", Severus began, "Are you sure you are completely ready to leave?"

Mark sighed, Snape had been doing stuff like this all summer. It was as if he didn't want the boy to rush into situations rush recklessly.

"Yes sir, I packed a strip of Peruvian instant darkness powder along with a strip of basic level explosive potion", the boy replied.

"How many vials does each strip contain and of what size?" Snape asked as he picked up a potions manual and casually continued reading were he had apparently left off.

"Twenty-five small vials each containing five fluid ounces of their potion", Mark responded.

"Hmmm", Snape mused. He continued in a quite droll, "That may be enough to save your miserable life, but what if close combat becomes a necessity?"

Mark drew the Basilisk blade, which by means of its own magic seemed to be able to remain unseen while sheathed in the wearer's clothes.

"Where did that come from?" Snape asked with a hint of uncharacteristic surprise.

"This might sound kind of, well, clichéd coming from a wizard, but magic", the young Dumbledore said with a half-baked smile.

Snape whacked him on the back of his head with his book. Then he reopened it and continued his reading.

"Don't try to be clever with me, boy", Snape said irritably, "It doesn't become you."

"Well if you don't want to know-"

Snape hit him again in the same spot, "What did I just say?"

"Fine, am I prepared enough to leave?" Mark asked.

"Not quite", the potions master started, "By any chance have you thought about how you are going to arrive at the zoo?"

To be honest, Mark had not, but there was no way he would ever admit that to Snape. The back of his head couldn't take that kind of abuse.

"Well… um, I was thinking I would take the underground. It is the fastest way from point a to b around here. All I need to do is take a quick jog to the nearest station a few kilometers away", he suggested.

Snape nearly burst out with a legitimate smile of mirth, almost.

"I have a better idea", Snape pulled a long package from behind the chair he was sitting on, "Go ahead and open."

"You didn't!" Mark said in utter and unhidden surprise, "You actually got me a gift that I wanted to receive!"

Snape looked mildly hurt at those words and Mark realized what he'd done.

"Not that I didn't love those potions supplies you bought me last Christmas. Those were brilliant and they saved my life a dozen times", he said trying to make up for the fact that he just mocked one of the only things Snape had ever gotten him.

Instead of the breath glimpse of sadness that filled Snape's eyes for a split second, Mark now saw them aglow with rage.

"Oh I'm in trouble", he thought aloud.

Snape whacked him harder than the two times before on the back of the head.

"I don't have to buy you anything you know", he said coldly, "The only reason I bought you this thing (he referenced the package) was to commemorate you turning eleven after I ignored when it actually happened."

Mark realized then that his professor had, in his own twisted way, been trying to help.

"Well, I am sorry for my words", Mark apologized.

"You should be. Had you been in school, I would punish you with a month's worth of detention for that comment", Snape spat, "But I suppose you may now have your broom."

Mark eagerly opened the package, hoping for a nice racing broom, but instead he found a cleansweep five. His look of delight vacated his face.

"This thing is an antique", Mark whined a bit.

"Well then I suppose I will just return it", Snape smirked.

"No!" Mark spoke up quickly, "I love it, but why did you buy such a cheap broom when you could use my bank funds to buy a top of the line model."

"First, I did use your funds. Everything I've ever bought you has been with your funds. Second, first years aren't allowed their own brooms, so I had to pick a model that people would assume is a schools broom if you were to use it for yourself", he said bluntly, "Now I trust you know how to use one of those?"

Mark nodded.

"And you will only fly low and in the wilderness were no one will see you?"

Mark nodded.

"Then get out of my sight".

* * *

><p>"So why do I need to come again?" Justin asked.<p>

"Because it'll be fun and I could always use an extra pair of eyes to watch out for Harry", Mark explained.

"So why do you _really _want me to come", the boy asked again.

"Ummm…" Mark stuttered out. He cursed the fact that he hadn't thought of a better excuse.

"Your terrified to leave the town, aren't you", Justin stated, looking skeptically at his friend.

"You hit the nail on the head, Justin. I've never actually had to pull a guard on Harry outside of a safe environment. Here I have moves I can make and back up strategies", the young Dumbledore explained.

Justin sighed and crossed his arm. Mark could tell that he was thinking it over, but he couldn't tell which side he was leaning on.

He had dragged Justin to the park right after leaving Snape's place. Needless to say, despite their friendship, being dragged out of his house so early in the morning had rubbed the older boy the wrong way.

"I have one question before I agree", he asked, "How are we going to get to the zoo? It isn't like it's right around the corner."

Mark smiled, "I'm glad you asked."

The young Dumbledore pulled out his broom from behind the slide. It was even older looking than he remembered from moments ago.

"You're joking, right?" his friend asked skeptically.

The young American laughed a bit, "not quite. Your looking at the most popular sports broom from fifty years ago."

"What are you going to do, sweep our way there?"

The younger boy sighed and dropped the broom on the ground. Almost as soon as it hit the ground, he firmly spoke, "Up", and it came to his hand. The broom hovered for a moment before Mark lost control of it and watched his broom fall back down.

"So the whole thing about witches and wizards flying on broom sticks wasn't bullocks after all", the older boy said in awe.

"Not bullocks in the slightest my friend, on the contrary all your artwork that shows us flying on brooms is based on those rather stupid and careless wizards flying in daylight", Mark said cheerily.

"Well I have another question regarding on how we sit on it", Justin said as he reached for the broom.

"Before you ask", the young American interrupted, "A cushioning spell was invented centuries ago for that particular purpose."

"Okay, that is a relief then, but something else does come to mind concerning the safety of this flight", the older boy queried

"And what would that be?" Mark asked.

"Well… two seconds ago you tried to lift up your broom and it fell to the ground in an unseemly and rather unexpected fashion. You know how to use that thing right?" Justin asked.

"Define 'know how to use'" the young Dumbledore said as he tired to avert his gaze from his friends eyes.

"Mark!" the older boy said sternly.

Mark had to hand it to Justin, despite the fact that he wasn't as tall as him; the older boy could show dominance when he wanted to.

"Well… I technically have never used a broom before… or any real magic for that matter. Don't be mad", Mark said, realizing how little confidence he would be generating right now.

"Well are we going to go or not."

The American looked back into his friend's eyes to see he was full of assurance, despite all problems with and holes in the plan.

* * *

><p>It had been a reasonably normal car ride for Harry Potter as he sat crushed against back seat's door.<p>

The trip had mostly involved passing by some peaceful countryside, then dense city structure. Most of the conversation involved reason they should have left Harry behind.

"I know he's ruining your special day, son, but there is nothing I can do about is", Vernon said from behind the wheel in response to Dudley's constant whining, "If it makes you feel better we can punish him when we return home."

To Harry's distress, Carter seemed to have picked up on the direction this conversation was taking and decided to add his two cents.

"You know what might teach him a lesson?" the young Drake scoffed, "You could always lock him his cupboard for a month like you did that one time."

Carter had been so genuine in his attempts to befriend Dudley that the young Dursley actually let him know about all the punishments and mistreatments Harry goes threw on a daily basis.

"Hmmm, not a bad idea there Carter", Vernon mused, "I can see why our boy picked you to be his friend."

Carter, from the middle seat in the back, turned and gave a smug smile to Harry. The young Potter turned to look for any zoo signs.

"Well you know us, Mr. Dursley", Carter said, looking into the rear view mirror in order to see Vernon in the face, "We're just two jokers out to make a school monopoly. I'm just more than happy to hang around on Dudley's coat tails, he's the real brains behind the operation."

Harry almost broke out laughing, but somehow managed to regain his composure. It appears Carter had mastered the skill of speaking ironically. That is to say one thing then mean the other.

Only Harry could read between the lines and see how much of a suck-up and parasite the boy had become.

"Why thanks for the compliment, mate", Dudley said as he patted his foe-friend on the shoulder.

"Anytime mate", Carter said, returning the favor, "Oh look, we've arrived at the zoo."

Arrived at the zoo they had indeed and after the minutes that it took for Vernon to buy the tickets, they went inside.

Once in, Dudley instantly asked for ice cream. His parents bought him the most expensive tings of course, a large sundae for him and Carter too.

When the clerk asked what Harry wanted, the Petunia picked out the cheapest thing on the menu, a lemon ice pop. Harry enjoyed it quite a lot despite the fact that it was so cheap.

After that they went around to the different exhibits. First by the petting zoo, he thought he saw Mark there, but when he called out to him the boy just ran away. The Dursley's got mad at him for making a scene.

The group then went to the outdoor exhibits until lunch. Dudley was treated at the finest restaurant in the zoo.

The young Dursley made a tantrum about his desert not having enough ice cream on top, so Mr. Dursley ordered him another and Harry was allowed to finish the first.

Then it was time to visit the reptile house to see all the different serpents and lizards.

Dudley and Carter went straight to the biggest constrictor snake they could find. It was big enough to wrap twice around Uncle Vernon's car and crush it like a tin can, but at the moment it seemed too tired to do anything.

Dudley stood there pounding his pudgy fingers on the glass trying to make it move, after a few minutes he ran off to his dad and started whining, "Dad, make it move!"

Carter simply sighed, as if his act was growing tedious. He looked over to the other side of the room with wide eyes then asked Mr. Dursley if he could go to the bathroom.

Harry tried to see what had caught his attention, but when he looked, all he saw was a random tourist.

Then the young Potter decided he would get his own look at the snake.

He cautiously watched the giant serpent as it slowly awoke and pointed its large head at the boy. A normal boy might be a bit scared by a large snake focusing on them, Harry felt completely comfortable.

Harry suddenly felt apologetic about Dudley's behavior, "I'm sorry about Dudley's behavior. He can a brat some of time… well actually all the time."

The snake cocked its head curiously to the side and then spoke in a deep and intimidating voice, "_Don't worry about it. I get that kind of thing all the time. How curiousss though, a human that can ssspeak sssnake."_

Now it was Harry's turn to be surprised, "You can talk? I mean, snakes always seemed to look at me as if they were listening, but you're the first one that has spoken up."

The python seemed to chuckle a bit at this, "_That is unsssurprissing. Most of our kind tend to avoid humansss out of fear, but I fear no man."_

"Well I can see why, you're quite powerful aren't you? You're a Brazilian python, right? Was it nice there?" Harry asked to the large snake.

The python cocked his head towards his display sign. It said 'raised in captivity'.

"Oh, so you've never been there, have you?" Harry asked sympathetically.

"_Afraid not. If I had two dreamsss in life they would be to meet a basilisk and to see my homeland. I have been told that given to my urban upbringing, I am one of the largessst of my kind. I could easssily rule a large area of Brazilian rainforest", _The snake said as he gazed into the distance, no doubt imagining what his home might be.

"By the way, do you have a name? I don't mean to be rude, but I can't very well refer to you as snake", the boy who lived said.

The serpent looked at the ground with a hint of despair, but then looked at Harry with the closest thing to optimism a snake could manage, "_I have no name and for the twenty years I have lived, I have never been asked for one. Could you perhaps give me a name, boy?"_

Harry felt touched; he looked over to make sure that the Dursleys were still busy. It appeared they were having some tea in the middle of the house on a bench. Carter was still gone.

"I would be honored to name you. Now lets see… you are a proud serpent, so a name with an s as the first letter would probably be best. Um, how about… Seth", the boy said to the snake.

Instantly the python began to rise up a little bit with enthusiasm, "Yes that is perfect! _I am Seth the Boa constrictor!"_

The snake opened its mouth wide and a large hiss, almost like a roaring dragon.

Then Dudley noticed.

"Dad look what the snake is doing!" the boy waddled over at a break neck pace and slammed Harry out of the way.

The snake appeared to dislike his new friend being shoved away and hissed at Dudley.

The round boy pounded on the glass then, as if by magic, the glass was gone and he fell threw into the exhibit.

For a moment Harry was scared that Seth was going to eat Dudley, but the snake simply snapped its jaw at the boy and slithered out of the cage.

Harry casually kicked open a sewer grate big enough for Seth to sneak threw. The serpent grinned and eagerly climbed down.

From the bottom of the sewer Harry heard him say, "_Thanksss kid. I'll look you up when thingsss cool down."_

Harry smiled as he closed the grate. Luckily for now, people were too focused on the boy now trapped behind the glass to notice his actions.

"Dad!" Dudley yelled out, now trapped inside the glass cage after the pain mysteriously replaced itself.

"Dudley!" Carter yelled, coming from nowhere.

Petunia and Vernon were freaking out, but the young Drake found the emergency fire ax. He preceded to hand it to the frantic Uncle Vernon.

The terrified man then hacked the glass apart, making sure not to hit his boy. After dragging Dudley out of the habitat and then getting all the glass that hit Dudley removed, they headed home.

Harry was locked in his room for the evening for some unknown reason.

* * *

><p>"Are you sure this is the right place?" Justin asked Mark after they got off the broom, already inside the zoo.<p>

Mark nodded as he scanned the horizon and spotted the Dursleys car outside the gate. The Dursley's, Harry, and to Mark's surprise, Carter, stepped out of the car and walked to the gate.

"You could have a little faith in me you know", Mark commented as he activated the shrinking charm Snape had cast on his cleansweep 5.

"Well in my defense this is the third zoo we visited. By the way, you're terrible at flying that thing", he said as he pointed at the broom.

"Well I did tell you this was the first time that I've ever been near a broom let alone fly one", the young American said as they started to follow the Dursley's.

"But did you really have to hit that barn. We almost splintered the broom," Justin said, "I'm still getting bits of straw out of my clothes."

"I know what you mean, but a couple of muggles almost saw us and that would be bad", Mark commented as they hid behind a corner.

"Bad how?" his friend asked.

"Well… The wizard parliament would probably never let me go to magic school for revealing magic to the world", Mark said thoughtfully.

They both checked to see if the coast was clear and then followed the other group to the petting zoo.

"I've been thinking about that actually", Justin began, "If I'm a muggle like you say, why hasn't there been some giant upheaval over the fact that I know all about everything magical."

Mark stopped dead in his tracks as some wires connected in his head. He had a theory, but didn't dare to raise Justin's hopes… yet.

"Um… well that is a good question. I don't actually have an answer for that, but I suppose we shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth", Mark commented as he sped up his walking pace and hid at the other end of the petting zoo next to the goats.

Harry was over by the sheep and ducks right now, so the small flock of goats would keep Mark sufficiently out of sight.

Then Justin cleared his throat from a much better hiding spot.

"Why are you hiding among the goats? Get over here, the trees give a much better cover", the older said from behind a big oak.

"Well… I don't know exactly. I just felt like I was supposed to be around the goats. Almost like the goats would help me and keep me safe from any enemy", Mark said, only realizing how insane he sounded after he finished.

"Mate, that is insanity of a Philip Crowian level", Justin said with a laugh.

Mark blushed mildly, but stayed hidden.

Then he saw Harry calling out, "Mark!" in his direction. Needless to say, the young agent ran like hell.

The two boys stopped for a while a bit later when the Dursley's and company were eating lunch. They had no money, so they had to go hungry.

"So I have a question, Justin", Mark said as they tried not to think about food.

"What would that be?" his friend replied.

"How old are you anyways?" the younger boy asked.

"Eleven, why do you ask Mark?" the older boy replied.

"Oh no reason, but I do have a follow up question for you. When do you turn twelve, I mean, you were in a grade above Harry and I. When did you turn eleven?" Mark asked.

"Well… my birthday is on the twenty first of September", Justin, said as he rubbed his grumbling stomach.

"Really? My birthday is the twenty first of June, I just turned eleven a few weeks ago", the young Dumbledore said thoughtfully.

Just then the Dursley group left the restaurant and walked in the direction of the reptile house. They all seemed so full and satisfied; it almost made the boys cry.

"Let's go", Mark called out, already half way to the house.

From inside the reptile house it was easy to see where Harry was, but hard for him to spot them.

"Mark, I'm beginning to think that we aren't going to see anything. I don't want to call you paranoid, but things really calmed down after that last fight at the end of the school year", Justin commented as they relaxed on a bench, well hidden by some fern plants.

"Don't worry, friend, whether it is an enemy or not doesn't matter. We're just here to keep the secret of Harry Potter, well secret", Mark said as he watched some of the lizards run around their habitat.

"What do you mean secret?" Justin asked.

"Simple, if any wizard passes by and happens to see Harry and recognize him, we are to redirect said wizard and stop him or her from leaving here with memory of what happened", the American mused.

"How would we erase a memory", Justin asked.

"I'd have to call Snape. I do hope it doesn't come to that", he replied.

"And what the bloody hell are you two doing here?"

As the two mused about all these things they didn't notice Carter walking right up to them.

Needless to say it was quite a shock for the boys.

"Carter!" Mark said as he did a characteristic over reaction and adopted a fighting stance.

Justin yawned.

"Again, what the bloody hell are you two doing at the same zoo on the same day as us", Carter repeated himself.

"Truly a coincidence my friend", Justin said as he stood up and tried to calm down his friend, "Mark I don't think he's here to fight us."

Mark begrudgingly stood normally and crossed his arms.

"You really expect me to believe that? I'm not stupid you know", the young Drake said irritably, "Whatever you have planned, forget about it. I'm not going to let you screw today up for me, I'm getting some serious points with Dudley today and may move up from lackey to partner."

Mark and Justin couldn't help but laugh at the boy as he openly admitted he was a lackey.

"How the mighty have fallen, ay Carter?" Mark taunted.

Just then, the young Drakes face went red with rage, but Mark didn't notice. Harry was next to the python and it looked as if he was talking to it.

"Um, Carter you may want to check in with your group over there" The young American commented as the scene turned even worse.

Dudley was now tapping vigorously on the glass and fell into the exhibit!

Carter finally noticed, "Um, got to go boys".

Mark and Justin watched the occurrence unfold, but refrained from acting. Harry seemed to have the problem under hand.

The snake was taken care of and Dudley had been freed by Vernon.

Mark and Justin rode the broom back to Little Whinging as the Dursley car did.

Mark dropped Justin off at his house and then rode off to Snape's place. He had some things that needed to be discussed with the potions master.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter over, thank you for reading. Please comment what you like and what you don't, I would appreciate any criticism that you, the valuable reader, has to give.<strong>


	3. Letters from Hogwarts

**Harry Potter and the Foe Glass: Book 2**

**Ch. 3 Letters From Hogwarts**

**This is going to be a last minute chapter that I decided to write on the 23rd of December as a Christmas present to you, the reader.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**

**Words inside this _~ example~ _are either authors notes or time skip explanations**

The escape of the Brazilian Boa constrictor had earned Harry the second longest punishment he had ever had to endure, second only to last year when Crow had fed the Dursley's laxatives and made Him the fall guy.

The allotted time spent in his cupboard gave the young Potter a renewed drive to learn and to try, with many bumps on the head, to exercise in his bunk. Thankfully none of the Dursley's ever bothered to check what the sound of Harry accidentally hitting his head was.

Dudley, in the mean time, broke his new video camera and crashed his remote controlled helicopter. He also happened to run over poor old Mrs. Figg as she crutched across the street on his new racing bike.

Once Harry finally got his freedom back he was very glad he had kept active in his captivity, because Dudley's gang had decided to join in one of the tubby boy's favorite games: Harry hunting.

In former years these little games had been the source of great anxiety for Harry, but since Mark had taught him how to fight last summer… well things were more even planed.

Despite his new fighting ability, Harry still felt more joy in wandering the town than sticking around for a fight.

Also, even though he did have friends for some reason they hadn't been around. Mark was never at the park anymore and Harry didn't know were he lived exactly and Justin always seemed so busy with his summer sports and other activities his parents made him do so he could be accepted into a promising secondary school.

Oh yes and there was that. One of the greatest insecurities that plagued Harry's mind these days was the fact that all his friends seemed to have a bright future where he was destined for mediocrity.

Justin's stepparents worked in the same firm as Mr. Dursley, so money wasn't much of a money issue for them. As for Mark, well… he was a foreigner in England, so for all Harry knew he could have gone back to America without telling him.

No.

Mark wouldn't have just leave he would have said something, but that was beside the point.

Dudley of course had gotten into Uncle Vernon's old school, Smeltings. Carter had gotten in there too, though that wasn't a big surprise. Carter's dad was richer than Vernon by far.

Evidently the only reason that Vernon liked having Carter around wasn't because he was a polite lad or anything like, but more because having Dudley befriend someone with a powerful dad had done wonders for his career.

Harry, on the other hand, was going to be forced to go to Stonewall academy, the local public school. Dudley told Harry about how the new students had their heads dunked in the toilets; he offered to practice with Harry.

Harry simply replied, "I don't think the toilet would appreciate something as foul as your head being put in it". He ran away before Dudley figured out what he meant.

One morning Harry came into the kitchen to discover Petunia mixing a pot that stank awfully like cabbage.

Dudley, meanwhile, was devouring some food and wearing his new burgundy Smelting's uniform. Harry kept his distance as his cousin brandished the rather large stick that came with the uniform.

"What on earth is in that pot?" the young Potter asked as he took his seat near the door.

"Oh, I didn't hear you come in", Petunia said with a scrunched up look on her face as if she had smelled something terrible, and Harry had a felling it wasn't directed at what she was stirring, "This is some of Dudley's old clothes that I'm dyeing for you to wear at stonewall".

"But he's twice my size! It'll never fit!" Harry exclaimed.

He thought about how it was going to look like he was wearing old bits of elephant skin. That would put a damper on his socializing.

"It'll fit fine once it's been tailored a bit", the frugal women spat back.

At that moment Vernon walked in and sat next to his son and wrinkled his nose just as his wife did. They all heard the familiar flop of letters landing on the front stoop. The mail had arrived.

* * *

><p>Mark woke up at the usual time, five a.m. He ate a usual breakfast of some porridge and one slice of orange (Snape was quite cheap when it came to food). He had a normal morning workout in the safety of the back yard.<p>

The young Dumbledore almost walked to the park to wait for Harry, but the words Caine had given him last year echoed in his head.

"Has it ever occurred to you that perhaps you might be the reason Harry is under such great danger now when he hasn't been in any for the past eight years?" the doctor explained, "When the Foe Glass shows no more enemies it will be best for you to keep your distance and defend from the shadows"

(A.N. that probably isn't copied to the best quality from last book, but you get the idea)

Instead the young boy moped around the house for a couple of hours before his surrogate guardian woke up.

Snape tended to enjoy his sleep, or at least Mark assumed that. In truth, the potions master kept himself very cloistered off in his room. He only came out to eat, collect the mail, and yell at Mark.

Luckily for Mark, it was mail time.

A couple months ago Mark used to duck in cover whenever an owl entered the house to deliver it's mail, given that American wizards had long since abandoned the practice, but now it was just a normal part of the morning.

A rather large owl swooped down and dropped an even larger package of letters.

That was odd; Snape didn't have any friends that would write to him. Mark decided to test the professor's patience and ask about it.

The young boy sat next to Snape, whom was reading the daily prophet at the end of their dining table, and spoke up, "Um… sir, why do you have so much mail today? I don't mean to intrude, but I've lived here for nearly a year now and I've never seen more than a single letter at one time."

Snape snapped down his paper with a quick twist of his wrist, moaned at the sight of the pile, then lifted his paper back to his eye line.

"Well, boy, if you must know it happens to be my least favorite day of the year, _letter delivery day_", the potions master replied with more than a hint of annoyance.

Mark on the other hand seemed fairly excited about this and instantly reached for the letters, but Severus cast windardi leviosa, making the package out of reach.

"What was that for? Shouldn't I have a letter in that bunch?" the young Dumbledore asked with noticeable frustration.

Snape sneered slightly at the boys discomfort then answered him with his own set of questions, "How much do you know about British magical parliament?"

"Uhhh…" Mark hesitated, "I was never really told anything about the British government or even my own government for that matter. The top brass told me this would help me keep my cover, you know _'ignorance is bliss' _and all that".

"Heh", the potions master laughed, "You really believe that don't you?"

"Why wouldn't I?" the boy said back, "They've never lied to me before, why should I doubt them now. The things I did learn about magic, like basic theory and other such things, have proved invaluable in the last couple months".

Severus's face curled a bit as if he was trying not to laugh. Given it was Snape giving the face it was quite terrifying.

"Well if you really want to know why I must ask, who other than myself and I few deranged morons, knows that you're a foreign agent in Britain?" the man asked.

"Um… well the minister of magic is one, I think, and the chief warlock of the Wizengamot", Mark said as he thought aloud, "What does that have to do with anything?"

Snape smirked, "Well as it turns out, the chief warlock is also the headmaster of Hogwarts".

"What does this have to do with me not being able to get my letter?" the boy asked.

Snape hit him on the back of his head, "You of all people should know about people not wanting your name known".

Mark cocked his head to the side, "If this guy is as important as you say then why bother trying to hide his name, everyone already knows".

"You don't and that's the point. He wants it to be a surprise when you find out who he is", the potions master said with a smirk.

"Well I can take a look at one of the others can't I?" Mark said as he stood on his chair to reach the letters.

"Tut, tut Mark", the professor said as he moved the letters to the other side of the room.

The boy flailed his arms to stop himself from falling over because overreaching his target.

"What was that for?" the young American exclaimed.

"I can't just have you going directly against the person who signs my pay under my watch", Snape smirked and drew his wand and pointed at the package. He cast a spell Mark had never heard before and set the letters back on the table, "Now you won't be able to read the name of the Headmaster even if you do get an unhampered with letter".

Mark grunted in defiance, but then simply sighed in submission.

"Fine, then can I have my _altered_ letter", he said with low spirits.

"Why of course you can, whelp", his professor replied.

Snape pointed his wand at the pile once more and this time two letters leaped out of the middle of the pile and straight into Mark's hands.

"Why are there two?" he asked.

"Simple", the potions master replied, "You're going to be making the delivery for Little Whinging for me".

"How can I convince someone that he is a wizard when I can't perform magic?" Mark asked.

"Another simple answer", Snape smirked, "You've already convinced this individual that he is a wizard".

* * *

><p>"Dudley get the mail", Vernon said.<p>

"Make Harry get it!" the round boy whined.

"Harry get the mail", Vernon replied.

"Make Dudley get it", Harry muttered right back.

"Hit him with your Smelting's stick son", the man ordered to his son.

The plumper cousin reached out to hit with his stick as the thinner dodged. The wood missed Harry's face by a fraction of an inch.

The boy who lived muttered quiet absentees about his uncle's parenting methods as he left the room.

He sighed, reaching down for the usual pile of junk mail with the occasional personal letter. Harry read some titles 'save money on car insurance now!' 'You've won an all-expense paid trip to the Bahamas!' (Most likely a scam) A letter addressed from Harry's aunt Marge (Imagine Vernon in a dress and wig without the mustache… actually keep the mustache). Lastly a letter addressed to… Mr. H Potter?

Now this had to be a mistake or something. Well… on the other hand, far weirder things have happened to him so why should a letter be that odd?

The boy plopped all the letters on the table except for the one that was addressed to him of course.

He looked at the address to see it went even further than his name. To be precise, it was addressed to _Mr. H Potter, The Cupboard under the stairs, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, _Surrey_._

It couldn't be a fake, everything was to exact. If Harry had learned one thing in the past year of facing constant dangers it was how to tell something that was genuine from a fake.

"Look dad! Harry's got a letter", Dudley screamed out of nowhere.

Time to run.

"Get over here you little maggot!" Vernon growled as he got up from his seat, "Now who would be writing to a little whelp like you?"

Harry was backtracking out of the room as quickly as he could, his cupboard was open perhaps if his reflexes moved fast enough he could lock the door and keep things from getting aggressive.

Then Vernon spied the odd-looking insignia that the young Potter had previously ignored. The fat man let out a beastly howl after seeing the wax stamp and charged faster than anyone his size should ever be able to.

Before there was anything he could do, Vernon had grabbed Harry in a killer bear hug and was slowly crushing him.

With gritted teeth and a crazy expression, the fat oath spoke, "Give me the letter boy".

"No, it's addressed to me", the boy who lived replied. However, despite his best efforts there was he could do against someone Vernon's size.

Slowly the boy's grip began to slack while Vernon's tightened a bit. In one last burst of strength, Harry's uncle knocked the wind out of him and the child dropped the letter.

Thus began a two weeklong war between Potter and Dursley that would inevitably end in the loss of Mr. Dursley's sanity.

Once things in the kitchen calmed down and Dudley was sent on his way, Vernon and Petunia began to discuss what this mysterious omen of a letter might mean.

"Vernon", Petunia began with a quiver in her voice, "look at the address – how could they possibly know where he sleeps? You don't think they are watching the house, do you?"

"Watching… spying… might be following us… definitely were the ones the bust up your flowers last week. Seems like just the sort of juvenile thing that these sort of miscreants would get up to", Vernon said.

The young boy who they had not ushered out of the room silently laughed at the fat man's last statement. He had actually wrecked that particular patch of tulips in order to plant his own patch of cabbage, but after being locked inside his cupboard he never was able to finish.

"What are we going to do Vernon?" Mrs. Dursley pleaded to hr husband.

It was slowly becoming obvious that something was going on and Harry wanted to know what. Well… either that or the two adults had finally gone off the deep end of the mental slope.

"We need to just wait and see. Nothing they can stop us from keeping that _kind_ out of our home", Vernon muttered with a tense tone.

"What if they send more letters? We can't stop all of them, can we?" Petunia said back.

Vernon grunted something with a quiet voice, probably a curse of some kind. Then he began walking out of the room.

"Vernon, what are we going to do!" his wife yelled frantically.

The fat man turned back, "Whatever necessary to keep one of _them_ from entering our home."

After that rather brisk exchange of nerves, Harry left the kitchen and went to his cupboard. It was time to plan things.

There were things he could do in situations such as this that surely someone of Vernon's demeanor would not be able to counter.

He had pondered just asking for a letter, but after that incredibly seen of stress, he feared that if he did ask the conversation would most likely end with Harry covered in bruises.

Besides, it isn't even worth the risk to directly confront the master of the house given Harry had already decided upon a rather elegant solution. He just needed to wake up incredibly early and wait for the letter to be dropped by the mailman.

After all, even though Vernon's job hours are from nine to five, Harry had never seen him awake before eight-thirty and the mail arrived at six in the morning.

Yes, and his cupboard were right across from the front door. This would work, or so he thought until something unexpected, and admittedly creepy, happened.

"Potter! Come out here!" the old oath himself called out.

This was unexpected; usually they left him alone and tried to pretend he didn't exist. It wasn't a terrible system either, the Dursley's could act like they had a perfect life and Harry could pretend he wasn't constantly abused physically and mentally.

"Now Potter!" Vernon continued.

"Oh well", the boy thought to himself, "I suppose there isn't anything I can do."

The boy who lived walked out and saw the scariest thing he had seen in a long time, a Vernon that seemed happy to see him.

Now this may not be such a bad thing if the man had looked normal, but the fact remained that he did not in the slightest.

For the first thing, Mr. Dursley had a smile that seemed so forced that it might literally be hurting him, secondly he wasn't looking at Harry like a man looks at a convicted rapist. The man had a look in his eyes so insane that the only thing Harry could relate it to was one Phillip Crow.

"Yes… erm… about this cupboard. Your – um, Aunt and I have come to decide that – uh – this cupboard is a bit too snug for you and… um… we think it is about time that you move up to the other bedroom, that is Dudley's other bedroom", Vernon said in a tone that was so utterly happy that Harry didn't know whether to scream and run away or cheer for joy.

Instead he just nodded silently.

"Uh, good", Mr. Dursley said, "Then grab your _belongings_ and Dudley clear out his other things."

The rest of the day went by rather smoothly, Harry got a new room in which he might finally exercise a bit without bumping his head every two seconds. Honestly, the fact that he could even manage a push-up in that crawlspace was a miracle in it's own right.

Harry then continued to stash his more personal belongings that the Dursley's never see. This included all the academic books the young boy pilfered from the schools trash in order to feed his ever expanding curiosity and the crystal ball Mark had given him last summer right after they first met.

These were hidden underneath a small pile of clothes in one of the boxes that Vernon had brought to carry things around.

It also appeared that the nice streak the fat man had been in ended as soon as it began, he didn't even bother carrying a single box.

Non-the less, the move was completed in only a few trips, mostly because there were so few things to carry in the first place.

Now it was a waiting game. Needless to say, being on the second floor would make it harder to sneak off to get the mail early next morning, but hopefully Dudley's whining about losing his second room would be quiet tiring for his parents too much for them to notice Harry.

Early that night the boy who lived slept. His alarm clock set for early next morning.

_~Several hours pass in which nothing of general interest happens~_

At five-thirty on the dot Harry woke in silence and dressed with equal discipline.

The walk down stairs was peaceful, but something felt wrong.

The young Potter made his way to the front door and stopped as he stepped on something squishy. It was to dark to see who or what it was, but it was alive.

He quickly jumped backwards as he figure rose out of his sleeping bag to reveal a grinning Vernon.

"Well, well", the man said with devious glee, "Thought you were going to get the slip on me did you? Not this man, oh no. Now go make me some tea and I might forgive the fact that you just stepped on my face."

Vernon did not forgive the face stomping, but instead locked Harry away for several hours. The young boy could smell the scent of burning parchment coming from the fireplace.

_~The next day~_

Harry arose to find once again that letters had arrived and once again Vernon was burning them. This time an entire stack had appeared to be mailed this time.

After the fireplace was long empty, the master of the house had another devious grin on his face, except this time it was full of nails that he was using to seal off the mail slot.

_~The next day… again~_

This morning the letters had somehow made there way into the two-dozen eggs that Petunia kept in the fridge. She only discovered the fact that her breakfast goods had been tampered with when she tried to cook them.

Another letter popped out of the toaster.

Harry got a hold of it long enough to see the address had changed to _the smallest room of number 4 Privet drive._

After that had been stolen from him, he occupied his time by watching the owls pass by and pondering how odd his life was becoming again.

_~The next day after that, which was a Sunday by the way~_

This morning the Dursley family was in the best mood they had been in all week. By the way Vernon was smiling anyone could tell that.

This wasn't a creepy, I'm screaming on the inside smile, either. In fact it was completely legitimate.

Harry sat at his usual spot in the kitchen as Mr. Dursley began to speak, "Ah, Sunday. Wonderful day, Sunday, in my opinion it's best day of the week. Anyone know why? Dudley?"

The plump boy looked up from his feeding trough, - er – um- _plate_, with a completely blank look on his face. He quickly looked back down and continued suckling his plate.

"Because there is no post on Sunday", Harry began, "Am I right, sir?"

"Right you are Harry", the man said with another big smile, "No bloody letters today, not one letter! Not One Bloody Letter!"

No sooner had he finished his rant did letter upon letter come pouring in threw the windows. Then they came threw the chimney and even busted through the sealed mail slot. After that it seemed every opening in the entire house was spewing letters.

Petunia screamed and a stream of letters coming from the window knocked down Dudley. Harry, on the other hand, was quickly on the move searching for a letter to grab.

He finally managed to grab a letter out of the ones that swirled in the hurricane in front of him. Vernon saw this, of course, and tried to grab Harry in a half-baked attempt to steal the letter.

"Give me that letter!" Mr. Dursley yelled.

"No!" The young Potter yelled, "There mine! There my letters!"

Dudley got up and spoke, "Daddy's gone mad, hasn't he?"

Petunia looked in shock at the scene unfolding in front of her as her son said the most intelligent thing she had ever heard him say.

The scene eventually was cleared up after Harry was locked back into the cupboard; given it was the only place the letters couldn't reach.

When he emerged he found that bags had been packed and the car was running. They were going to be leaving immediately.

_~The events that followed that Sunday led the Dursley's through several uncomfortable places including, but not limited to- a dirty motel, an open field, hours of car travel. These events are of little importance other than the fact that they further drive Vernon off the brink of sanity. When the story resumes, it is late Monday evening on a shack in the middle of the sea during a large storm and Harry is counting down the time until he turns eleven~_

Five minutes to go and Harry heard a creak outside. He hoped the roof wasn't going to cave in, that would kind of put a damper on things. No pun intended given it was raining quite vigorously outside.

Four minutes to go. Perhaps the house on Privet drive was so full of letters that he could grab one without anyone noticing.

Three minutes to go. Was that the see slapping on he rock so hard?

Two minutes to go and what on Earth was that crunching noise? Was this whole bloody rock about to fall into the ocean?"

One minute until Harry turns eleven. Thirty seconds… twenty… ten… nine – maybe he'd wake Dudley to annoy him – three… two… one…

**BOOM**

The shack shook and Harry immediately jumped into attention. Someone was at the door and there was no way he was going to be killed by some psycho this night, not after what he had gone through!

* * *

><p>~Meanwhile back in the Bat Cave- Er, I mean Justin's house (It's the first morning again BTW)~<p>

"Ah Mark, always a pleasure when you come to visit, but you rarely do come to visit do you?" Justin began with a smirk, "Let me take a wild guess, Harry is being stalked by a wild mutt and we need to stop it. Oh and we can't be seen or the world might implode."

"Hey! Don't joke about that mutt thing, that actually happened once", Mark said, reflecting on his past experiences with the dreaded hellhound, Atticus the wolf.

"Did the world implode?" Justin asked.

"No, bu-"

"Then we can joke all we want to", Justin said, being as angsty as ever, "Now what important mission do you have for us today? I trust it is something more exciting than the infamous petting zoo assignment."

Mark looked at his friend. He would have been annoyed, but what the young American had learned earlier this morning was more exciting than anything that had happened in a long time.

"Sadly, I have nothing of the sort for you this day, but what I am holding behind my back will bring far more joy than any boring old reconnaissance job that for all extensive purposes you shouldn't even know about", the Dumbledore boy said with a smirk of his own.

After those words left the younger boys lips, the older began clawing at the younger ones arms to find out what secret they contained. Eventually he gave in to the fact that Mark wasn't giving up.

"Okay, what do you have for me that will make me so happy. I don't suppose it might be anything to help me from the eminent threat of that William Grey person coming back for my silver amulet?" The older boy said as he showed the dagger shape from under his shirt.

"Well… funny you should ask really", Mark said as he pulled out the letter and shoved it into his friends face.

"Calm down mate, lets not be pocking things at my eyes", Justin said as he opened the envelope and began to read aloud, "Hmm lets see what is so important about this letter. Dear Mr. Burnaby, we are pleased to inform you that you have accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

At that point he dropped the paper on the ground and stared at Mark, his mouth wide open and his eyes full of suspicion.

"Please tell me if this is a joke or not right now or I may have to kill you", the older boy said in utter awe.

Mark let out a laugh, "No need to be so suspicious, old Severus got the Hogwarts letters for muggle borns today. He's going to be out delivering all day while I received my letter directly from the owl's beak. That is indeed a legitimate acceptance letter. Now I don't suppose your parents are here? They need to see this letter."

"Of course, right this way", Justin said as he cloistered Mark inside.

The Burnaby residence was one of the nicer places in Little Whinging, they happened to actually be right down the street from the Drake mansion. The interior was spacious and filled expensive furnishings that were perfectly organized.

The whole place made the American feel his home at Snape's place was even shoddier than he previously conceived.

"Mom! Dad! My friend Mark is here and we have something to show you!" Justin yelled out towards the den, were two adults could be seen watching television on a rather large set, "It's lucky you came today Mark, both my parents are leaving on separate business trips tomorrow. Well at least this way they won't have to worry about my safety anymore."

The two children walked right around the television and presented themselves before Mr. and Mrs. Burnaby. The two both had dark brown hair, but the Mr. had brown eyes were as the Mrs. Had blue. Mr. Burnaby was heavy set, but he was also so tall that you barley noticed his thick waistline. On the contrary, his wife was very short and extremely thin.

"What is it son?" Justin's stepfather said in a deep, baritone voice.

"Yes, what is it?" his mother said in a slightly squeaky voice.

Their son cleared his throat and spoke, "Do you recall when I tried to explain to you about magic and everything?"

At that statement Mark gave Justin a look that said What the Hell. The adult Burnabys just chuckled a bit though.

"Oh yes, Justin", his father replied, "I remember all about the big bad explosions and the flying broom and that wacky school, Hogpimple, or something you mentioned."

"Sir, if I might intrude on this discussion?" Mark asked bluntly.

"Ah, very polite. You may speak young man" ,Mr. Burnaby answered.

"Well, for starters, the name of the school is Hogwarts. Secondly magic is real and I'm going prove for the sole reason that I have brought the acceptance letter for your son to go to said school", Mark said confident that this would leave them dumbstruck.

Instead the pair of adults laughed bluntly at the boy.

Justin put his mouth to his hand and made a side comment to Mark, "Um… my parents tend to only believe what they can see."

The young American sighed and pulled out his broom, which had a shrinking charm placed on it for easy access. He continued to expand it right in front of their faces and proceeded to use it to hover off the ground.

This did leave Justin's parents dumbstruck.

"Uh, what do we have to do to help?" Mr. Burnaby asked.

"All you have to do is divert the money you were going to use on sending Justin to that fancy boarding school to a wizard bank called Gringotts, I have the information right here", Mark said as he passed the Brunabys a piece of parchment, "I suppose I will take care of the rest."

**Man it took forever to write this chapter. I got a new ps3 for Christmas, enough said. Please comment and all that.**


	4. Greetings From Diagon Alley

**Harry Potter and the Foe Glass**

**Ch. 4 Greetings From Diagon Alley**

**I used to write new chapters, but then I took an arrow to the knee.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**

Boom

They knocked again. Dudley jerked awake and muttered something about a cannon.

After that last crash, Mr. Dursley had become aware of the presence of someone at the door. He came into the room with the rifle he had brought with him to the island.

"Who's there?" Vernon yelled out, "I warn you, I'm armed."

There was a pause then-

Smash

The door swung clear of its hinges and fell with a thud at the other side of the room. In its wake, I colossal man sauntered in. He had rough black hair and an equally jagged beard. He wore a large, and loose, greatcoat. Truly, Harry thought, this must be some kind of wild-man.

Vernon cocked his gun, "Who the bloody hell are you? I demand an answer!"

The wild man looked down at Mr. Dursley. He spoke with a rather deep and booming voice, "Couldn't make us a cup o' tea, could yeh? It hasn't exactly been a pleasant journey."

The large man then proceeded to walk to the ruined couch and sit down. He shooed away Dudley, who was sitting there and then ran to hide behind his mother. His gaze then turned to Harry… a bit to late though.

The young Potter had actually been flying at man with a jump kick aimed for his head. The massive man was so dumbstruck by what he was seeing; he didn't react until it was far too late.

"Ugh", he said as Harry's kick made contact with his jaw line, leaving the imprint of the boy's bare foot in the coarse beard, "An, what was 'at for?"

The man then looked back at Vernon with a large scowl on his face, completely unperturbed by his now swollen lip, "Would you kindly explain why, e's acting like yer personal body guard."

At that statement it was Harry's turn to be confused.

"Well, I su'pose it could be worse", the large man muttered, "'e could be like that'n (He pointed at Dudley) at heavy with no strength. The son o' James Potter being a worthless slop, now 'at would be tragic."

"I-I ah, d-don't know what you mean s-s-sir", Vernon muttered, cleared his throat and spoke with a bit more composure, "I still would like to know why you've broken down our door."

The man looked at Vernon with great suspicion, "You mean to tell me tha' you haven' noticed anything odd. Last I checked, eleven 'ear olds don' know how to fight like that."

"If I might interrupt?" Harry muttered a bit meekly.

Mr. Dursley continued as if the boy wasn't even there, "Are you trying to imply that I have been making the boy into some kind of servant!"

"Well if tha' isn't true 'then explain 'is actions!" The giant roared.

"Sirs, can I say something?" The young Potter said a bit more loudly.

The two still didn't hear him. The man kept yelling, "I bet you didn' even tell him about magic, did you?"

"Hey!" Vernon yelled at his loudest voice, "You will not say that word under my roof! I've worked to hard to keep that under wraps for some oaf to break the secret in one fell swoop! Not now, not ever!"

"WOULD SOMEBODY TELL ME WHAT IS GOING ON!" Harry yelled.

Everyone looked the boy, the Dursleys with contempt, the unknown man with sympathy.

The man brushed the back of his head with one of his massive hands, "I s'pose I let my an'ger get da best ah' me. Sorry 'arry. Now, I 'ave to ask, did what Vernon just spout 'ave any truth to it? Do really not know about magic and all dat stuff."

"I'm sorry, but I haven't the slightest clue what you mean", Harry said, "by the way, what is your name?"

"Oh, right, my name is Rubeus Hagrid. I 'appen to be the keeper of the keys and grounds at Hogwarts school o' witchcraft and wizardry", Hagrid replied cheerily.

"Hogwarts?" the boy who lived asked.

"Hogwarts, finest school for wizards in da whole world if you ask me. Didn' you wonder were yer parents learned it all… oh right, Vernon never told you any of it", the grounds keeper said as he glared at Mr. Dursley.

"What does this all mean though?" Harry asked.

"You're a wizard, Harry", Hagrid said with a look of absolute legitimacy on his hairy face.

"I'm a what?"

"A wizard, and a thumping good one to if you get yerself some proper training. With a mum and dad like yours, what else would yeh be? An' I reckon it's abou' time yeh get yer letter", the keeper of keys said.

He pulled out a letter that was addressed in green ink to Mr. H. Potter, the floor, hut-on-the-rock, the sea. Harry took the envelope and read the letter inside:

Hogwarts School

Of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minevera McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

Harry's genius mind made rapid connections with this newfound information. All his life he had felt out of place, not because he was a freak, but because he just wasn't meant to be there.

He said the first words that came to mind, "What was that about an owl before July 31?"

"Oh o' course", Hagrid said as he pulled out a quill, piece of parchment, and an actual living owl. The poor thing must have almost suffocated in that coat pocket the giant had kept it in.

He quickly wrote a letter that described how Harry had read the letter and they were soon going to purchase his school supplies.

"So Harry, yah must have some question to ask before we go", Hagrid said as he let the owl fly away.

Anyone else in Harry's position might have spent hours questioning the weird man who came out of nowhere, but, as it was, the boy who lived had spent the last year learning how to adapt more and more quickly to the weird things that happened around him.

Plus, anywhere was better than here.

Instead of asking anything, the young Potter simply shook his head for no and walked out the door.

* * *

><p>It had been several days since Mark had convinced Mr. and Mrs. Burnaby that there son was a wizard and things were going great. Well as great as things could go in this situation.<p>

Mr. Burnaby went into a bit of a panic and began hyperventilating while his wife calmed him down.

But after several minutes of the news sinking in, everyone went back to their levelheaded mentalities and discussed plans.

Mark was tasked with making sure that Justin arrived at diagon alley and was supplied with all the correct magical implements.

At first his parents were not very thrilled with the fact that an eleven-year-old boy whom they had never met and that Justin had only known for a few months, but Snape had made a brief appearance near the end and then all was set.

The Burnaby's left on their business trips as planned, but instead of having their son stay alone at their manor, the good potions master insisted that the boy stayed at his home.

The uncharacteristic generosity that Snape showed confused Mark at first, but then once the two boys came back to the teacher's house it made sense. With twice the 'whelps', as Snape referred to them, twice the work could be done on his home.

By the end of the week Snape's place had a new roof, freshly scrubbed floors and fireplaces, and a large assortment of furnishings that Snape ad been kind enough to purchase the material to make. All of this without magic of course.

Once it was finally the seventh of august, the day that the trio was going to make their trip to the alley, the two boys were practically jumping with excitement.

"Whelps!" the professor bellowed, "Present yourselves! It is time you exited that pit you refer to as a room and prepare to leave. I swear if you are still asleep when a enter then I will cast enough curses that you will never sleep again."

The man slammed the door to Mark's room to see, to his distinct surprise, that Justin's sleeping roll had been rolled and set aside and the two boys were actually brewing a potion.

"Professor", Mark said cheerily, "I was just teaching Justin here how to brew Peruvian instant darkness powder. It would be very useful if someone else here could occasionally replenish my stock".

"You need to get ready to leave children, it is time to depart and we have one more person to pick up before we can leave," Severus said in his typical drawl.

"What do you mean we have another person to pick up?" Justin asked, "I was under the impression that I was the only muggle born that needed to be escorted to the alley".

The two younger boys looked at the potions master with general expectations.

Don't worry you know this one, I don't think you'll have a problem with her" the potions master said slyly.

"Her?" Mark asked.

"You'll see" Snape commented as he turned to the door, the bang of an apparating wizard came and went and was followed by knocking on the door, "Ah right on schedule as always."

The young boys walked hesitantly behind their teacher as he reached open the door to reveal one of their least favorite female associates on this planet.

"Oh, it's_ you_", Justin said in a sullen tone.

"Nice to see you again too", Susan Makepeace replied with rather smug smile.

The children stared daggers at each other until the only adult in the room became impatient. Given that said adult was Snape, it took approximately eleven point two seconds.

He hit the two boys on the backs of their heads as Susan smirked.

"Would you two stop causing trouble so we can leave", he said in his low and quite voice with just enough rage bubbling below the monotone to let Justin and Mark realize his annoyance.

"Fine", Mark grunted as he rubbed his now swollen skull, "I would like to know why she is here though."

Snape smirked this time, "Well you are aware of young Susan's rather unfortunate situation among her family".

"Yes, but what does that have to do with this?" Justin asked.

"Her family wishes to deal with her as little as possible, therefore they refused to accompany her anywhere public, hence she shall accompany us to Diagon alley and platform 9 ¾", the professor articulated to the boys as Susan's shoulders slumped a bit in her white blouse.

First the boys laughed, then Snape hit them and they felt a bit sympathetic towards their enemy's situation, but that didn't stop them from snickering every time Severus turned around.

"Yes, let's all have a laugh at the estranged eleven year old girl, she doesn't care, it doesn't hurt her feelings", Susan muttered a bit teary eyed.

Mixed feelings followed that statement.

"Well, we would be a tad bit more nice to you if it wasn't for the fact that you had just tried to have us both murdered by your psycho uncle, whom if I might remind you is the reason you became estranged, not three months ago", Mark grunted.

A bit more tension followed that statement as Snape sighed and muttered something like _"this is why I hate children"_ then apparated the three away before they could begin another argument.

_~Meanwhile back at the Leaky Cauldron (By the way, if it isn't clear, Harry, Mark, Snape, Susan, and Hagrid are all at Diagon Alley on the same day at the same time)~_

Remarkable, simply and completely remarkable.

These were the only words that came to Harry's mind as he walked into the Leaky Cauldron with his new friend the half giant.

The young boy had spent the past couple of hours asking every possible question that popped into his mind to Hagrid. Most people probably would have been driven mad by such an inquisition, but the lovable oaf just seemed completely delighted that Harry had opened up to him.

Back to the Caldron… it had just taken the library's position as the boy's favorite place in the world.

The entire building, from the sign to the darkly decorated interior just elated the young Potter's every sense.

He gazed around at the arrangements of people, no wizards, which wore robes and constantly used their own magic, whether it was to stir their coffee or mess with the candles that dimly lit the shop.

Eventually Harry's gaze fell upon a rather interesting character. He wore a turban, although he was clearly British and he had an almost debilitating twitch that seemed to plague his voice every other syllable. To add to the mystique, he wore a multileveled black robe.

Harry was about to ask Hagrid if he new who the chap was when the good grounds keeper answered.

"Ah", Hagrid bellowed merrily, "Professor Quirrel, I didn' know you would be here. I have someone that I would like you to meet."

The large man placed a giant hand upon Harry's back and started pushing him forward. Under normal circumstances the-boy-who-lived would have been disgruntled by such an assault on his personal space, but this served the boy's curiosity well.

"Harry, this Professor Quirrel", the half giant explained warmly.

"H-Harry P-p-potter?" the professor stuttered out, "I w-wasn't aware y-you would b-be here. I w-would have g-got you a welcome present".

Harry eyed his teacher with the intent of memorizing his every detail for future reference. Once he was satisfied he looked up at Hagrid.

"He teaches defense against the dark arts at Hogwarts", the grounds keeper commented.

"N-not that you need it a-aye?" The man asked with an awkward smirk on his face, "T-truly a p-pleasure to m-meet you."

The young Potter shook the man's hand with equal awkwardness. Hagrid then said farewell to the professor and shepherded Harry to the back of the tavern.

They exited the back door and stood in the alleyway beyond it with nothing but a simple brick wall staring them in the face.

All of a sudden, Harry became very aware of the fact he just followed a complete stranger into a bar and out to some London back alley. Perhaps he should take another I.Q. test, this wasn't the smartest thing he'd ever done.

"Um… Hagrid?" The eleven year old asked.

"Oh yah", Hagrid said as he pulled out his umbrella of all things.

The giant man tapped the bricks in a precise pattern that Harry captured with his photographic memory. Then all of a sudden the wall parted with the last tap of Hagrid's stick.

Harry wished he had eight more eyes… There were shops selling robes, telescopes, and strange laboratory instruments that Harry had never seen before. The window displays were full of scrolls, books, quills (many of were writing by themselves), brooms, potion bottles, and all other assortments of magical implements.

After gazing for a moment at black powder swirling in a cauldron, his mind made a new hypothesis.

Though he wouldn't be able to know if his theory proved any merit until school.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley, Harry", Hagrid said, successfully brining Harry back to reality, "What do you think?"

"It's brilliant", the young Potter said in awe, "A thought just occurred to me though."

Hagrid smiled warmly, "And what would that be?"

"Well, there are some very expensive things on this list. How am I going to pay for this, I haven't any money?" Harry asked.

The large man pointed his finger at a large stone building at the other end of the alley.

"Well there's your money Harry! Gringotts, the wizard bank, ain't no place safer except Hogwarts", the grounds keeper said proudly.

With that sentiment, the pair walked across the length of the street and stopped for a moment outside to look at the structure.

As Harry had noted earlier, the entire structure was made of very thick stone. The walls thickness could only be truly appreciated when one compared the walls to the door. The door was open and it was at least a foot thick, but the walls protruded at least two yards past the gate.

Despite these intimidating features, what really drew the eyes was the plaque above the gate.

It read…

_Enter Stranger, but take head_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed_

_For those who take but do not earn_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn _

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours_

_Thief, you have been warned beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there_

Now sufficiently terrified, Harry walked inside. What he saw only added to the fear.

Small, wrinkled men with long ears and sharply pointed fingers scurried back and forth as fast as their legs could take them. All of them seemed to have at least one thing in common though, they all carried wanted posters.

The posters were positioned at every visible inch of the bank. Every inch of wall was covered in these figures, which showed the shadow of a man running across the very room they were posted on.

They each had inscribed on them,

"Wanted for theft of a high security fault. Reward, _ten thousand galleons_".

Hagrid became a bit more on edge than before. In fact, he was the most on edge Harry had seen him in the couple days he had seen him. The man was literally shaking.

"Hagrid, what is it?" Harry asked.

"Err… nothing, let's get to yer vault. I have the key in my pocket", the grounds keeper muttered in haste.

The two practically ran across the room to the front desk. It was a large mahogany desk, made thick and strong as a last bit of defense. Not that it was necessary; guard wizards had been posted at five-foot interval down the long hall.

One of the small men was at the desk, Harry decided it was time to find out what they were before he met one.

"Um, Hagrid. What are those things?" Harry asked.

"Oh, er, those are goblins. There nice enough as long as you have enough money", the keeper of keys muttered as they continued forward.

They finally stopped before the desk as the half giant slammed a key and a letter on before what appeared to be the goblin in charge.

"A mister Harry Potter would like to make a withdrawal from vault numbered 687. Also we are here to make a withdrawal from a vault number 713", Hagrid practically screamed out.

The head goblin opened the letter with a single claw and studied intrinsically. Then raised an eyebrow and gazed at Harry.

"Very well", he said in a somewhat creepy tone of voice, "Griphook! Come and escort a Mister Harry Potter to his vault as well as a Mister Ruebeus Hagrid to vault number 713".

A young goblin that could only be assumed to be Griphook walked forward and gestured for the two to follow.

Harry and Hagrid followed onto a mine cart and began riding down a track, deep into the pits of the Earth. The ride was anything but smooth and reminded Harry of what he always imagined a roller coaster to be like.

He would have puked if he had eaten a bigger breakfast.

Finally they stopped outside of a vault titled 687 and stumbled outside. Hagrid handed the key to Griphook and watched as gate swung open to reveal piles of gold, massive heaps of silver and still greater mounds of copper.

"Hagrid!" Harry said in amazement, "Where did all this come from?"

"Well you didn't think that yer parents would leave you empty handed now, did you?" Hagrid said, vaguely concealing his still noticeable worry, "Now time is important, so pick what ye want."

Harry nodded and went to grab some of his money. He stopped and turned to the goblin.

"I can assume the gold is the most valuable and copper is least correct?" the young Potter asked.

"Er… yes, that is very knowledgeable of someone who I've been told is ignorant to our customs", Griphook said in surprise.

"Also, ten of the knuts would equal one sickle and likewise to galleons?" Harry asked as a follow up question.

"Yes, but how did you know the names?" the goblin asked back.

"They are written on the coins" the young genius remarked as he gazed upon his wealth.

"Yes, of course", Griphook remarked.

Although the creatures face barely made the slightest twitch, Harry could tell he was impressed and the young boy loved it.

Harry ended up taking fifty galleons, one hundred sickles, and five hundred knuts. Not a moment after Harry went towards the door; Hagrid pushed him into the cart.

After another thrilling ride, they exited outside vault 713. The goblin walked to the vault door and used one of his sharp claws to run the center of the gate. Locking mechanisms could be heard releasing.

The door separated in the middle and each side slid into the walls it was attached to.

A single small table sat in the center of the room and a single package sat roughly folded on that table.

Hagrid let out a massive sigh and walked into the room. Obviously this package was not as mundane as Harry thought if Hagrid thought it was important enough to be stolen.

The giant calmly approached the parcel and stowed it in his massive coat.

With that, the pair left the vault and then after bidding a fond farewell to the goblins while wishing them luck with catching their criminal.

They then proceeded to but the cauldron, robes, potions supplies, and books on Harry's list.

All that was left was the wand.

Hagrid took Harry to a shop title "Olivader's" that had apparently made fine wands since 46 b.c.

"Alright Harry", the half giant said as the two stared at the old fashioned shop, "you go ahead and meet mister Olivander for yer wand. I have some business to attend to; I'll be back in a couple minutes".

"All right Hagrid" Harry said as he opened the door.

The boy entered the dusty shop and started sorting threw the assorted boxes of wands. He was about to open one when a very old man walked out.

"Hello mister Potter, I've been wondering when you would come", the man spoke.

"Good day mister Olivander, how did you know who I was?" Harry asked.

"I am merely observant, not unlike yourself. You look just like your father, except you have your mother's eyes. I sold them their wands you know. Even if you didn't resemble them there is still always the scar", Olivander muttered as he stepped further into the area lit by the blinded windows.

"So, shall we get on with it then? I am quite eager to choose my wand" the young Potter said as his gaze rested on the shelves of wands.

Olivander chuckled, "That is just it though, mister Potter. The wand chooses the wizard, it is not always obvious why, but it is always so."

"How can an inanimate object possibly have a will of it's own?" the boy queried.

"That is magic, my boy", the old man said with another chuckle.

Though he was heavily wrinkled and had white hair, Olivander somehow maintained a youthful aura about him.

"Now young mister Potter", Olivander said, "Let us find your wand".

They sorted through all matters of different wands and none appeared to the right fit. In fact, several of the selections nearly exploded in his hands. All the while, the old wizard kept muttering curious and curious.

Finally, in great excitement, Olivander retrieved a final wand. Harry could feel a very powerful aura from it.

"Here mister Potter. Ten and a half inch, holly, and phoenix feather", the man said, "Go on, and give it a swish".

The boy grabbed the wand and instantly the same aura that he felt from the wand expanded and visibly surrounded him in a golden light.

"Curious", Olivander muttered, "Very curious."

"What's curious sir?" Harry asked in turn.

"I remember every wand that I've ever sold. Every single wand. It just so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather resides in your wand gave another feather… just one other feather. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother gave you that scar…" Olivander said, "Curious indeed how these things happen."

With that, Harry silently paid for his wand and exited the store with a few more questions for Hagrid in his mind.

_~Harry gets Hedgewig and finds out he is the boy who lived and that a lunatic tried to kill him and killed his parents. Meanwhile Mark and friends enter the alley~_

"Shut up!" Justin yelled for the fifth time in the past two minutes, "I don't care that I'm going to be killed for my amulet. I would however like a moments peace from your constant reminders."

Susan smirked after the latest outburst she had caused. Mark on the other hand had a slowly growing scowl. Snape must have temporarily deafened himself, since he hadn't said anything in the past couple minutes.

All of a sudden the young American caught a glimpse of the potions master removing cotton from his ears.

"Children, it is now time to acquire funding for this little excursion", he said coldly and quietly. Despite that, all the bickering stopped and everyone focused on Snape, "Now, I assume everyone has access to some form of vault?"

Mark and Susan nodded, but Justin looked a bit awkwardly at the ground.

"Do the bankers by chance transfer pounds to wizard money?" the older boy asked.

"Of course", Snape sneered, clearly enthused by the boy's ignorance, "Now you children run off. I can't stand the sight of you".

Severus turned to walk to back to the Leaky Cauldron to refill his flask and nurse his troubles.

"Where are we to go?" Mark asked.

Snape didn't turn around, but muttered, "Just follow Makepeace, she probably relished counting her trust vault a multitude of times."

They all decided that was enough and followed Susan into the alley. She quickly marched to the grand stone building of Gringotts bank at the other end.

They were stopped as a raggedy old man with terrible posture and bad teeth hobbled in front of them.

He spoke with unnatural vigor for someone of his physical appearance, "You there! I'm looking for a boy. He's about five feet tall and has jet black hair, if that doesn't help you can identify him by the insanity in his eyes."

Mark's heart jumped a beat when the man said insanity, due to his own dealings with someone of that nature.

"Sir?" the young Dumbledore asked, "Why are you after this boy?"

The odd man spat and practically yelled at the boy, "Why am I after him? Why am I after him! This whelp bamboozled me out of my house, life savings, and my last good shirt! I don't even think I need to mention how ripe these rags have gotten either."

The group of children stared at the man, half in pity, and half in agreement regarding his statement about his rags.

"I have another question sir", Mark said.

"Well spit it out!" The old man said.

"What was this boy's name?" the young American asked.

"Philip Crow!" the man said, "now if you see him; tell him Murray wants to see him."

The children said their goodbyes to Murray and walked into the bank at utmost haste. Surely the fortress that is Gringotts will be able to protect them from the greatest enemy they have ever known.

Then again, perhaps not.

The bank was filled with wanted posters and had clearly just been broken into. To make matters worse, at the front of the bank Harry and someone whom Mark assumed to be a half giant were at the front desk.

He quickly dragged his companions to the side and pressed them against the wall. Susan blushed a bit, but Justin looked a bit mad.

"What was that for Mark?" the older boy yelled as the younger tried to cover his mouth.

"Quiet down!" the young American said in a hushed yell, "Harry is at the front of the bank and we can't let him see us."

The other two sighed with slight annoyance. Susan side stepped to get a step farther away from Mark and brushed the wrinkles off her blouse.

"Mark you twit", she began, "Does it even matter any more? You've been doing this for how long now and for what purpose? Does it really matter that Potter doesn't know we're wizards? Honestly, he's going to find out tomorrow anyways".

It was Mark's turn to sigh, "By then he will be safe at Hogwarts and my – no - our presence will no longer affect him".

"But Mark", Justin commented, "What on Earth do you mean by our presence affecting him? We've done nothing but protect him. Well… except for Suzy here, she tried to kill him".

Makepeace smirked, "Not entirely true boys. I was never intent on killing him if you recall, I was only there for the dagger around Burnaby's neck. Harry is _much_ more valuable alive".

"Look", Mark began after a moments pause, "Haven't any of you noticed that Harry just happened to be completely safe and out of harms way for a good nine years before my arrival?"

The other two shared a brief moment of realization to what Mark was trying to say. They still looked skeptical though.

"You surely can't believe your presence is behind this, can you?" Makepeace asked with an eyebrow raised.

Mark once again stood for a moment, temporarily consumed with frustration. He chose his next words with consideration.

"Yes", Mark muttered after giving up the hope of thinking up an argument for using.

As the children argued they barely noticed as Harry went into the vaults and returned with pockets full of money. Once Potter had left, the group decided this discussion better left for a later day.

They then calmly made there way to the front desk and then talked with the goblin in charge. Evidently the chief goblin sent the same underling as he had for Harry.

Griphook then took Susan and Mark into the deep chasms of Gringotts while Justin exchanged his pounds. The ride took a long time, far longer than Harry had been gone.

"Here we are, children", Griphook said as they walked in front of the secret American vault at the very lowest and most defended reaches of the pit.

Mark was filled with pride and homesickness as he gazed at the engraved markings of the American flag in the center, while Susan seemed utterly annoyed by the safes presence.

"Dumbledore, explain", the young girl muttered, green with envy at the size of the vault.

As she stared Griphook traced his claw down the center and unlocked it. The doors swung wide open to reveal a chamber of incredible vastness and grandeur. Banners with designs like the American flag graced the sides at regular intervals and great torches in between them kept a constant light.

Above all else present though was the money.

Mountains of the golden galleons, silver sickles, and copper knuts, were heaped everywhere in orderly columns. It would not have been overly surprising to Mark if these coins had never been regulated to the public and just came here from whatever place they were minted given there vast quantity and pristine condition.

Not only British currency was there though, but small piles from every major magical nation in the world, though they were not nearly as vast in numbers as the English money.

"Your probably wondering how I obtained such a large vault, aren't you Susan?" Mark asked with a smirk.

"Well… I'm waiting", she said with slight embarrassment as she gazed at her shoes.

Griphook intervened to save time, "This is the American vault in Britain. Put here by the first Wizard leader of America. The size is one hundred meters in width and one thousand meters in length. The original amount deposited was a modest hundred galleons, the only amount _your_ country could spare after winning _independence_. After years of decisive deposits, the last of which being one hundred and thirty two years ago and the wise investments made by the senior goblins here, it has swelled to its current girth. Current purpose is to supply funding for the actions of American wizards over seas. Previous manager, Stan last name unknown. Current manager, Mark Dumbledore. You're a lucky boy Mr. Dumbledore, from your friend's lack of use and therefore lack of our need to message the department of banking in America, I doubt anyone remembers of its existence. What I'm trying to say, I suppose, is all this is yours".

**Thus finally ends chapter four. This, I don't think I have to say, took forever to write. Well… look forward to the first installment of the magnificent mister Crow.**


	5. The Sorting

**Harry Potter and the Foe Glass**

**Ch. 5 The Sorting**

**It has come to my attention recently just how long I've waited to update… I'm heartily sorry. Sloth is truly the most deadly of the seven sins…**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Potter.**

It was a cramped compartment, but he didn't care, he was used to it. In complete honesty, the small train compartment he sat in felt quite roomy given his experience with small spaces.

Harry Potter sat alone in the Hogwarts express near the front of the train. His brain had finally caught up with all the things that had been happening during the past couple of weeks.

It passed by so fast; he could barely remember what had been happening. The Dursley's had locked him in his room for most of time in a vague attempt to stop him from leaving.

It was laughable really; when Hagrid came back for Harry on the first of September it didn't matter. The giant man ended up carrying Harry over his shoulder as Vernon shouted to let his serving boy go.

After the groundskeeper said a couple more choice words to the Durselys, the pair was off to platform nine and three quarters.

Hagrid left soon after arriving at the station, but thanks to a rather large family of redheaded wizards, Harry managed to find his way into the station well enough.

There he sat as the scenery passed by, examining his holly wand and making himself familiar with the grip. That didn't take long, the wand felt as if it was always meant to be in his hand.

Just when the boy had decided to close his eyes and process some of the things that had been happening, the door of his lone compartment slid open to reveal one of the scarlet haired boys that had taught Harry how to get inside the pillar portal.

"Hello", the new comer said cheerily, "Do you mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is full".

The boy was a very good actor, Harry thought. The-boy-who-lived had in fact researched prior to going on the train that it could comfortably transport twice the usual number of Hogwarts students.

The ginger did sell his case well though, his eyes called out with desperation to be accepted.

Harry didn't see any reason not to welcome him though, it's not like the boy could be picky with friends.

"Sure, there is plenty of room. Sit anywhere", the young Potter replied.

"Thanks", the boy said with a large smile as he sat uncomfortably close to Harry, "My name's Ron Weasly by the way, what's yours?"

"Harry", he began, "Harry Potter".

Instantly the gingers eyes lit up and Harry realized his mistake. He was _famous_ here. Ron wasn't here to fit in; he was here to fit in with Harry.

"Do you really have th-the scar?" Ron stuttered.

The young Potter sighed lightly as he lifted up his bangs to reveal the signature scar.

"_Wicked_", the Weasly boy said with ever growing awe.

To that Harry contemplated the consequences of taking Ron's arm, shoving it behind the kids back and throwing him out the compartment.

It wouldn't be hard and Ron didn't look strong enough to retaliate, he was rather small and skinny, but his brothers might be a problem. There was just so many of them.

Instead Harry just started talking to the other wizard about different things he needed to know. As it turned out wizards were almost the same as muggles in culture, except technology in the wizard world stopped advancing directly before the industrial revolution.

The simple reason was magic. With it the wizards didn't need electricity, phones, or even assembly lines. Manufacturing was simply and instantaneous. If what Ron said was true, then a single wizard worker could match the productivity of an entire assembly lines day in a single hour.

Once Ron figured out Harry had been raised by muggles due to his questions (lets just say it took longer than ten minutes of asking about basic wizard stuff for the boy to figure out) he seemed to be just as interested in muggle tech as Harry was in wizard magic.

They spent a good half hour discussing the differences between muggles and wizards along with many of the things Harry had learned in school as well as what Ron had been taught by his mother in his early years.

The young Potter was shocked to learn that there was no pre-Hogwarts education in wizard society and that many wizards went without standard education until their eleventh year. Ron, in turn, thought that Harry was a loon when he tried to explain the greater purposes of physics to Ron.

"Why do we need to know how fast gravity is if we can undo it with the flick of a wand?" Ron muttered.

"I keep telling you, if we want to ever expand Earth colonization into the stars a complex understanding of physics is needed", Harry remarked.

Ron was an idiot, but Harry decided that for all extensive purposes, Ron wasn't the worst person to be friends with. Like he said, he wasn't picky.

"Anything off the trolley?"

The two eleven year olds cocked their heads to see a kind old lady with a cart of sweets. Ron shook his head as he looked glumly at the sandwiches that he had brought. Harry decided it was time spend some of his families money.

"I'll take the lot of it," Harry said.

Ron beamed right up and Harry emptied out a few galleons as the trolley lady gave filled the small compartment with sweets.

The two ate for a while as Ron talked about his chocolate frog card collection. Harry felt obligated to give up every card he had gotten.

The feasting went on until Harry and Ron noticed Ron's rat eating some Bearty Bott's every flavor beans. Ron decided to whip out his wand.

"My older brother taught me how make Scabbers bright yellow, want to see?" the ginger said with a smirk.

Harry nodded and gestured for him to continue as he swallowed a mouthful of pumpkin pastry. The other boy was about to speak the enchantment when a girl with rather bushy brown hair and a bossy expression barged inside.

"Have either of you scene a toad?" the girl demanded, "A boy named, Neville, lost one. Oh… are you about to use magic, let's see this then".

"_Heh-hem_" Ron cleared his throat, "Sunshine, daisies, butter, mellow; turn this stupid fat rat yellow!"

Yellow sparks singed Scabber's wickers, but nothing else happened. The girl seemed to instantly jump on this error.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" she said in a now characteristically bossy tone, "I've only tried a few, but they've all worked out for me".

Harry became a bit frustrated at this statement and couldn't help but defend Ron in his time of need.

"Miss…" Harry paused, "What is your name exactly?"

"Oh, I'm sorry", she quickly replied, "I'm Hermione Granger, and you are?"

"Harry, Harry Potter", the young Potter said calmly.

Hermione's eyes lit up similarly the way Ron's had. She was about to spout out a long list of questions when Harry jumped up and put a finger to her lip. She let out a small eep at the boys speed, but was otherwise calm.

"Hermione, you really mustn't blame my acquaintance Ron for his poor luck with his spell", Harry began, "He had just told me his brother taught him that spell right before you entered our compartment and when I met Ron's brothers before entering the train I took note their joking nature. It leads one to believe that they would prank their brother with a false spell. Really it doesn't do to get on his case for something beyond his control."

At the end of his rant, Harry slowly slid his finger off the girls face. He bit his slip slightly when he noticed the bit of powder sugar he had neglected to clean off his finger from the pumpkin pastry had made its way to Hermione's lower lip.

Harry sat down and looked with great pleasure at the odd mixture of livid fury and total awe that his words and actions had left on the girl.

All she could say was, "You have dirt on your nose, did you know?" to Ron.

He rubbed it off, but countered with, "You have sugar on your lip".

She blushed frantically and wiped it off. Then she looked at Harry with a bit of confusion. The young Potter decided just to gesture for her to join them and offered her a snack.

"I believe you were about to ask me some questions, Hermione", Harry commented as he picked up another pastry.

Ron looked at the girl smugly as he shared Harry's victory, but Hermione was still a bit flustered. She soon recovered and asked an immense series of questions to Harry about his life up to this point. Most of these were things Harry couldn't possibly know, but he gave his best shot.

Shortly before arriving at the station, Hermione warned them to change into their robes and walked out the door, but not before fixing Harry's glasses and teaching the boys Occulus Reparo.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP 

In was cold, but then again it was always cold in this place. Snape didn't believe in comfort, hell he barely believed in blankets for beds. At first the boy thought he just needed time to adjust from the warm climate he was used to into a brisker British temperature, but after staying long enough he realized that he wrong.

Cold or not, it didn't matter. Today was going to be a good. Today Mark left Little Whinging for Hogwarts and he couldn't wait to leave.

"Whelp!" The bat yelled at the boy, "Get out of your bed and prepare for departure. We need to arrive early enough for the two of us not to be seen together".

The young American sighed. He had been up for hours, Mark tended to exercise when he was nervous and that was often. The boy's body had been covered in condensed, cool sweat for hours.

He pulled off his nightshirt, wiped himself off and walked to the bathroom to bathe and prepare for the day.

One good thing about Snape's house, there are plenty of potion heaters, so heating a bath takes less than a minute.

Once clean, Mark dressed, gathered his cart, and presented himself in front of Severus.

The potions master had made a list of advanced level materials Mark was supposed to bring along to further his knowledge… it was completely potions based.

"Extra large cauldron, herb guide, map of local fauna in the Hogwarts area, and high level manuscripts along with notes to decipher them?" the man asked.

"All of it is under the shrinking charm you taught me hidden in the compartment at the bottom of my pewter cauldron", Mark replied with obvious confidence.

The boy's teacher was less than impressed. In fact, if one didn't know better they might assume Severus was trying to find a kink in his preparations.

"What about your broom?" Snape remarked, "You couldn't possibly have that in your cauldron."

Mark smirked with a bit too much cockiness for someone his age, "You see this broom shaped pin on my shirt? That would be the cleansweep".

The potion master let his lips curl into a sneer for a moment, but recomposed himself before the boy could take pride in frustrating his master. A small pause of awkward silence followed this before Snape whipped out his wand, grabbed Mark by the collar, and apparated away in one decisive motion.

_~Later, Mark separates from Snape's company and begins to shadow an unaware Harry~_

Times like this often made Mark ponder the reasoning behind his decision to keep Harry in the dark about him being a wizard. Things would most certainly be easier.

Along with that, Mark would be happy when his days of diving into trash cans to avoid making eye contact with Harry were over. Whether he liked it or not, Harry was going to figure out Mark was a wizard and Justin and Susan for that matter.

The American digressed; it wasn't his place to make these decisions. Perhaps when he arrived at Hogwarts he could rely on the council of the chief warlock of the wizengamot, he was the headmaster after all.

Somehow Mark had a feeling that man would be helpful.

This didn't matter though; Harry was having trouble at the portal to the platform. Mark was about to help him when a family of redheaded wizards beat him to the punch.

They weren't important enough for the young Dumbledore to have read about them in his reports, but they seemed to be harmless, so he let them be.

Once the coast was clear, he followed into the portal door.

The platform was rather vast and filled with wizards intermingling threw an ever increasing cloud of smoke. If Mark had any more time he might have wandered around the area, but he had a mission after all.

Mark barely managed to avoid Harry before he managed to sneak into the compartment behind him and pull out a very special item.

The extendable ear prototype that Stan had left him fit rather nicely out the window and into Harry's compartment. He was non-the wiser to the ear behind his head.

For the longest time the boy sat still listening to the silence that prevailed in his friend's compartment. Then he heard the voice of a boy coming in, the same from the platform.

There conversation was trivial and more often than not just a series of the Weasley sucking up to Potter. It made the young American a bit sick to his stomach.

What made matters worse was Harry's lack of assertion against Ron's idiocy. In fact, the boy-who-lived seemed almost grateful just to have someone to talk to. Mark nearly gagged as he realized he spent the last year making Harry physically independent but emotionally needy.

That was the only possible explanation Potter tolerating such an imbecile. Mark had no idea that British wizards are so stupid either.

Before an American wizard is able to attend magical school at the age of eleven, he is spends the first decade of his or her life learning everything there is to know about mathematics, science, and the literary arts.

From what Mark had been told this was standard practice. A firm understanding of the world was the only way to ensure that an idiot (i.e. someone like Ron) didn't spill the beans. That is the only way wizards and muggles could live side by side without the latter not knowing about the previous.

"What yah doing?" a voice familiar voice says from behind Mark.

"Er… Nothing Justin", the young Dumbledore replied, "I was just examining the window here.

This couldn't have been a more awkward situation for Mark. When his friend had walked in, the young American had currently been stooped on his bench with his ear pressed as near to the widow as possible.

"Cut the bollocks mate", Justin declared with a smirk, "We both know that you were listening to Potter with some kind of magical thing-a-majig, no point to denying the facts".

The Dumbledore smiled; there was no fooling Justin. The kid was almost as smart as Mark and had nearly a years experience more dealing with the world.

"I don't suppose you would like to join me in my work?" Mark asked wearily.

"Actually, I'm here to keep you from it", Justin said with a now serious look on his usually bright face, "It's killing you man, you've got to take a break".

"Eh…" Mark started as he raised his finger and mouthed the first syllable of his defense, "You're right".

Justin gawked in surprise, "This is interesting, and here I expected a fight. _Huff, _I made that deal for nothing".

Mark raised an eyebrow, "What deal?"

"One with me", Susan Makepeace said as she stepped into the compartment, "He promised to keep me company as long as I kept you from your work. He is right you know, you look terrible, have you been sleeping well? And is that a bit of flour on your collar?"

Mark looked at himself in the reflection of the window. She was right, he had large black bags under his eyes and his clothes were sloppy at best. How did Stan manage to have such an average appearance after ten years of this job?

"So, why are you so desperate you'd help me just for company?" Mark commented briefly as he straightened up his appearance.

Susan frowned briefly; "I've been blacklisted by every pureblood group from the lowliest store clerk to the highest family head. I'm afraid I've been stuck around Burnaby here for a while".

Under normal circumstances this may have given Mark a bit of joy, but seeing the pain in Susan's eyes, it just felt wrong. Even a rotten murderess didn't deserve complete solitude.

"Well", Mark grunted as he extended the ear to reach the center of the room, "I suppose we can all sit together then. If you don't think you're too high and mighty for us".

Susan smirked and sat across from the young Dumbledore. Justin took his seat at Mark's side.

"You should really put that thing away", Justin said, pointing at the ear tendril in between the three, "It's making me sick".

"Not likely", the American grumbled, "I can't stop listening; something important could happen".

Makepeace didn't hesitate to grab the ear and tap it once with her wand. As it was meant to do, the hearing device retracted all the way to her hand. She then placed it in her pocket.

"What do you think you're doing!" Mark yelled. He tried to grab it from her, but she was to fast.

"You may be a so-called genius, but I'm no fool either", she commented as she idly flipped around her wand, "You don't hit girls".

"You have to be kidding Susan!" Justin laughed out, "This kid is a cold hardened killer, he's not going to… uhh, Mark?"

Mark had in fact not grabbed for the ear, but rather sat cross-legged on his chair with his arms crossed as well. He was the picture annoyance.

"You're kidding", the older boy said in surprise.

Makepeace took the liberty to explain, "Since he was abducted into the military, he was taught to always follow a strict moral guideline. Namely, he can't hit girls".

"Please tell me she's kidding" Justin said dully.

"Afraid not, I can't hit her. It's actually a personal choice by the way; it wouldn't go against my code to beat you into submission. Keep that in mind", Mark said with a sigh.

Justin spends a moment gawking then regains his composure. Susan smirks slightly in her usual cocky manner. Obviously she is not above using the Americans restraint to her advantage.

"Sue, I think we've tortured him enough", says the older boy in an attempt to change the subject, "Bring out the dice".

She didn't hesitate after he said that to retrieve a single blood red die with black dots from her sleeve. She then shook it in her hands and blew on it for good measure. Once the girl was satisfied, she tossed it on the floor. It landed six.

"Yes!" Susan said in triumph, "Even number, that means I get first call".

Mark cocked his head and muttered, "Ah… what's going on?" In the tone one might use once he interrupts two people having an intimate conversation.

"Justin rests his chin on his hand and answers, "Gambling".

"I say he's going to faint", Susan says with a large grin.

"Who is?" the Dumbledore boy asks.

"Harry", Justin answers in a sort of defocused voice, "I say he's going to start screaming".

"What are you two talking about!" Mark yells, sufficiently breaking the other two's concentration.

They gave a stare colder than the Antarctic in the middle of winter.

"We told you" Makepeace scowled, "Gambling over Harry's reactions."

"Um… reactions to what?" Mark inquired.

"Oh yeah", Justin says with a sense of realization, "We've been gambling for the few hours before we walked in here about what Harry is going to do once he finds out the lot of us are wizards".

For about the millionth time this day, the young American found his lower jaw slack with sheer surprise. Gambling of all things! What were they thinking?

"So, you two think Harry is going to take it badly?" he asked.

The Makepeace and Burnaby both started laughing at Marks words. They soon realized he wasn't joking, Justin stopped laughing and looked apologetically, Susan laughed harder.

"Mate", Justin started, "Potter's a wreck emotionally. You've done plenty of good with his physical and mental strength, but his heart is far to open to influence, or have you not noticed the witless wonder he is talking to right now?"

The words cut deep, they might have actually left a mark on Mark if it wasn't for the fact that they were just repeating what he already knew in the pit of his heart.

"So, are you two ready to pick up the pieces?" Mark asked hesitantly.

"Nope", Susan laughed.

"Um… sorry", Justin said remorsefully.

"Fine, I'll take care of this too".

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP 

Harry had enjoyed his boat ride to Hogwarts almost as much as he had enjoyed the train ride. To make matters decisively better, his new friend Ron decided to stay by his side at all times.

The pair stayed close to the main group of students as Ron had informed Harry that many would want his attention. Potter decided to listen to him even though they had just met.

In order to better keep his identity safe, the boy actually used his hand to brush down his hair a bit. It was that important to remain unknown for him.

Harry didn't know why, but crazy people always seemed drawn to him. It was better for him and society in general if he kept to fringe of things.

His determination to remain unknown could only be matched by Ron's determination to spout out every fear and insecurity that he could think of.

"I heard from my brothers that we have to fight a full grown mountain troll to be sorted into our houses", the Weasly aid with an even paler complexion.

Harry smiled slightly. The statistics of a school releasing a large creature against untrained children was astronomically low. Given Ron's brothers already had a reputation as tricksters; the odds were even more in the first years' favor.

Still… it wasn't Harry's fault if he couldn't stop the back of his neck from sweating in fear.

The procession of soon to be first years made their way to a room with rather large, wooden gates, that Harry assumed was their destination. They stopped before entering. It gave the boy plenty of time to take in the scenery.

The ravishing tapestries, the ornate stone works, the portrait eyes that followed you as you walked around the room. Very quaint, but not nearly as interesting to Harry as whatever he imagined lay behind those doors.

"So it's true", an unknown person said from behind the Harry, "Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts".

The young boy mentally let out a series of curses. How did he find out who he was?

Harry soon found himself face to face with a boy roughly his height that had slick, blond hair and cold gray eyes.

"Well, Potter", the boy spat out casually, "My name is Malfoy, Draco Malfoy. What do say we be friends?"

Ron giggled slightly at Draco's surname, possibly due to preconceptions his family has told him. Ron seems to be set in his opinions that way.

"Think my names funny, do you?" Draco said with his full attention on the ginger, "No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford".

Ron was about to punch the prat in his over-confident face, but hesitated as he saw the two rather rough looking boys standing on either side of Malfoy.

Well, it looked like the boy-who-lived had another Carter on his hands and somehow he didn't think bonking him on the head would work this time. Something about one of the boys seemed familiar.

Malfoy just continued as if nothing had happened, "You'll soon find some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sore. I can help you there".

The kid extended his hand to Harry, but it was met with a cold and decisive smack aside. Mark had taught him a move that one could use to inflict a huge amount of pain by hitting someone at the right spot on the wrist. If Draco's face was anything to go off of it worked wonderfully.

"I think I can make the right choices for myself thanks", Harry said as he turned to walk away.

"Why you!" the prat yelled as he drew his wand and pointed at Harry's back.

Harry was about to try and kick it out of Malfoy's hand in one spin when he noticed something. Draco was gasping for air as Mark Dumbledore held the wrist of his right arm with his larger arm and had the other arm giving the prat a headlock around the neck.

"Mark!?" Harry gasped in complete and total surprise, "What the bloody hell are you doing here!"

His friend looked up and smiled a bit crookedly, "uh… hi Harry. Fancy seeing you here".

As Potter stood gawking, the two goons began to grab at Mark's own back to get him off their boss. Thankfully, Mark was half a head taller than both of them and a lot stronger, so he held his ground for a while.

"Justin!" the American shouted out to a figure trying his best to hide behind a group of girls, "Get over here and help me teach these guys a lesson".

Reluctantly, Justin Burnaby walked out of the group, but not before dragging Susan Makepeace form deeper in the crowd.

At this point Harry had nearly lost his footing and was growing dizzy. Ron held him up.

A fight soon erupted between the three people Harry had met a year ago and the three people he had just met two minutes ago. Fists were thrown and most of them focused at Malfoy or Mark. The three thugs were just lucky that Susan only got a few hits in, she aimed low.

Ron, in the meantime, made a few side comments regarding the people involved.

"Um, mate?" Ron began as Mark tackled the shorter, fatter goon, "Who are these blokes that showed up out of nowhere and are causing so much trouble? Not that I dislike them, I actually hope they make Malfoy bloody".

"There three people I met over the last year", Harry said with wide eyes and a monotone drawl, "I met the tallest boy first the older looking boy and the girl shortly after. She was actually our enemy, I don't know what happened to get her on our side".

"Well I don't care who they are as long as they're winning", The Weasley boy smirks, "So these were your wizard pals back in your hometown?"

"That's just the thing, though", Harry said in the same tone, "From what I knew, none of them are wizards. I guess they must be if they're here".

"You're kidding", the ginger says, assuming Harry was joking, "How could that be possible?"

The young Potter didn't manage to say another word, but just stood they're watching the most unlikely seen he had ever seen and that included everything that occurred the previous year. It wasn't bad, it wasn't good, but it was just shocking.

A few more of the rather wealthier looking students tried to help Draco, but the vast majority of them were tossed aside in the first few seconds. It was clear that in wizard society bullies took power through preexisting influence and not personal ability.

That became more and more abundantly clear as three people who had grown up in a muggle public school beat the tar out of twice as many pure blood wizards.

"Petrificus Totalus!" an older female wizard shouted.

Everyone in the fight was frozen in place. A rather sad scene for Malfoy, who was on the ground sniveling as Mark was about to lay another punch into his face.

"In all my years I have never seen such a blatant show of aggression between children!" the old witch said in a scolding tone, "You all should count yourselves lucky the headmaster instated a policy on amnesty for all actions prior to sorting!"

That seemed a bit too unlikely for Harry's taste. There was no way that this could just be a coincidence. Perhaps the good headmaster was worth a check up or two.

"As it is, do not think you shall go without punishment", she says under her breath, "At the very least not if you enter my house".

At that moment the spell broke and the bruised and bloody children fell to the ground. They picked themselves up and stared each other down.

Mark and his group broke out laughing after a few moments. They had clearly noticed they faired far better than there counterparts.

"Stop that hostility!" the woman proclaimed, "Now, I am Minevera McGonagall, the deputy headmistress. If you would please straighten yourself up and follow me into the grand hall."

She turns abruptly and opens the grand doors then continues to walk all the way down hall. They all just followed as if nothing happened.

The grand hall was another of those amazing places Harry had learned to love about magic. There were grand tapestries with more magnificent stonework carved into the walls and the final piece was the ceiling that resembled the night's sky. Candles floated in mid-air, giving an eerie glow on the four long tables that held the four houses.

In the front of the hall and on a simple stool was a ragged old wizard hat.

Then as Harry was about to stare in extreme surprise for the third time, it began to sing of all things.

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty

But don't judge on what you see

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts sorting hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The sorting hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong to Gryffindor

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve and chivalry,

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong to Huffelpuff

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Huffelpuffs are true,

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in Wise old Ravenclaw,

If you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin,

Where you'll meet your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means,

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a thinking cap."

The young Potter stood in the second of four rows of students who stood in front of the hat. These were to be his fellow first years. God lord he was nervous!

Despite Harry's hard exterior and complete control of any shaking in his limbs, there were some things he couldn't control. The boys breathing grew shallow and his eyesight blurry, his back was now very moist from a cold sweat.

The repeated shows from the day were wearing him out and all he could think about was what Ron had told him about Slytherins and their biased ways. Harry tried to use logic to shake the fear from his mind, but he couldn't manage it.

He waited and stepped bit by bit as his colleagues were called and sorted. Malfoy was instantly put in Slytherin without the hat sitting even going fully on his head. The hat had a bit of a fit when Ron was sorted; something about too many Weaslys in school, but after frightening Ron, the hat put him in Gryffindor.

Hermoine and that Nevell boy were also put into Gryffindor. That decided it; Gryffindor was the house to be put in.

"Harry Potter!" McGonnagal cried out.

There was silence in the hall as every eye, child and teacher looked at Harry. Apparently this was the first they'd been hearing about the boy's enrollment.

Harry repeated that in his mind as he walked to the stool and had the hat put on his head.

"_Hmm…"_ the hat mused as it sat upon his skull, _"Now where are we going to put you. Plenty of courage, no problems there, a thirst for knowledge and the aptitude to accept it. Well, well, there's a bit of cunning here as well, though just perhaps a dab to much dependence. Perhaps Slytherin could fix that… yes you could be great there."_

"Not Slytherin", Harry mutters under his breath"

"_Not slytherin aye?"_ the raggedy old piece of clothe said back, _"Are you sure? You could be great and Slytherin would help you on the path to greatness! No doubt about that"._

"Not Slytherin", Harry said with more determination that time.

"_Well… if you're sure"_ it replied_, "Better be…_ **Gryffindor**."

**Um… sorry for being so lazy. I promise I will actually update now, especially since the book is getting into full swing**


	6. The Sorting Aftermath

Harry Potter and Foe Glass: book 2

**Ch. 6 The Sorting aftermath**

**I'm back you crazy fan fic readers! That's right, I've rediscovered the joys of writing after taking a somewhat elongated break.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**

"Well, that seals both of our fates then", Mark thought to himself in reflection to Harry's sorting to Gryffindor, "Now all that is left is the negotiation. Snape is going to be furious after this, probably won't even look me in the eye any more".

Several more people were in between Harry and Mark in the sorting ceremony and none of them were put into Gryffindor leaving plenty of open slots for the boy. Now was the time to implement Severus's plan, while everyone was distracted.

The young American lifted his sleeve to his face as if he was going to wipe his face, but secretly uncorked a vial and emptied the contents.

His mind instantly became very sharp and his thoughts full of clarity. He felt as though nothing could penetrate his mind.

_~As Mark walked into the front doors of Hogwarts…~_

"_Boy!" The potions master said in a hushed tone "Come over here"._

_Mark willingly obeyed and faced his guardian, whom pulled him by the collar down a side corridor._

"_What is it professor? I can't be gone for long" the boy replied._

"_I'll tell you when and when not you have the time to delay!" Snape scolded as he stared daggers at the child._

_The potions professor had successfully lost all pretenses of the last few months and adopted a very strict and hostile tone. The effect was an unnerved Mark._

"_Take this potion. It will shield your inner thoughts from intrusion. Drink when your turn is near, the effects don't last long", Snape finished._

"_An occlemency draft?" Mark asked, "What good is that to me here?"_

"_I can't tell you, it's against the rules of the school and my contract of employment", Snape said in a cold and almost sarcastic voice, "you'll know when the time comes. By the way, Potters made some new friends, it might be a prudent decision to go assist him"._

_Mark turned to see a wand pointed at Harry's face and rushed through the crowd to help him._

_~Present~_

"Justin Burnaby!" McGonagall yelled out from her list.

Justin didn't waste time; he took smooth strides to the stool and sat down. The hat lay on his head for a moment and looked as if it was enjoying a good joke before yelling "Slytherin!"

Susan was right after Burnaby and sat rather pompously on the chair. To her annoyance, when the hat yelled Slytherin it did so in a very sarcastic tone.

A picture was beginning to form in Marks mind. The hat, like other sentient beings, craved entertainment and the only way it could get it was from reading the minds of children. Sickening if one thought too much about it.

There wasn't any time to think though; he was about to be called.

"Mark Dumbledore!?" the transfiguration teacher said as if she couldn't quite understand what she was saying. She regained her composure, "Surely this is a joke?"

What she didn't expect was the tall, black haired and piercingly blue eyed boy who walked to the stool and placed the hat on his head while everyone was in a daze. Faculty included.

"_So its true then?" _the hat said into his mind somewhat bemused, _"The thoughts don't lie though, your frighteningly like your great uncle"._

"Great uncle?" Mark asked.

"_You don't know?" _it said even more perplexed, _"How is it possible you don't know something and I didn't know you didn't know? Somebody has been a very naughty boy drinking occlemency draft"._

"Who is my uncle!" Mark thought loud and clear for the hat to here.

It shuttered a little bit, _"Don't focus your mind that much when under the potion; you nearly made a thought powerful enough to tear a seam. As to your uncle, turn a quick 180 degrees"._

Mark cocked his head until he stared a great old man with a broken nose and a massive, silver beard. The man looked into his eyes with a grin on his face the strayed his gaze a moment later.

"He is my family?" Mark questioned, "But isn't he the headmaster, the chief warlock and supreme mugwump? How could he be related to me even vaguely without my knowing?"

"_Who has more experience in these matters? Me or you?"_ the hat spat back, _"By the way, I wouldn't suppose you would allow me a glimpse into your subconscious would you? Just a look to see which house suits you?"_

"Not a chance" Mark said as the hat drooped a little, "Or at least not until you meet my demand."

"_Well… you are just like your uncle, aren't you?" _it mused, _"Very well, curiosity has peaked my generous side, what can this humble headwear do for you?"_

"My first and as of now only demand", Mark thought, pausing for effect, "Is to be put into the same house as Potter".

"_Potter you say?" _if a hat could smirk, that would be what it did, _"I don't see why not, but then again, I don't see why"._

"You'll understand if you agree", the boy replied.

"_Quite cryptic are we?"_ the hat muttered in an almost inaudible thought, _"Very well, Gryffindor it is, now lower your guard"._

"Swear to it".

"_Are you sure you don't want Slytherin?"_ it said, _"Your clever enough for it. But… very well. I solemnly swear that I shall uphold my bargain to place you in Griffindor or may my stitches be torn and my fabric spread in ashes"._

"Alright", Mark proclaimed with his most dramatic use of thought, "My thoughts are open for you to gaze upon".

The next five minutes were rather painfully long as Mark very consciously sat upon the stool with everyone gazing upon him. The hat never stopped delving deeper, it went further and further into the reaches of the mind like an ever-expanding mist, then at once it withdrew.

"GRYFFINDOR" it proclaimed, _"Have fun young spy. I shall be watching your career very closely"._

Even louder cheering erupted from the lions table this time around with a standing ovation from the teacher's table.

It would have been quite the moment if it wasn't for two twin gingers who yelled in synchronous, "Yah! We got McGonnagall and Dumbledore's illegitimate child!"

Mark tried to sit next to Harry, but he was boxed out by the idiot from the train on one side and the smart bushy haired girl on the other. Instead he ended up on the far end of the table next to the twins.

"Silence!" the headmaster yelled out from his chair in a booming tone, "I believe this has been a, er, very eventful sorting, now to for the beginning of the term announcements. Mr. Filtch would like me to remind you that the third floor corridor is forbidden to any who don't want to face a horrible and painful death".

"Oi, Dumbledore kid!" the twin on his left said.

"What's it like having a grandfather/father who never talks about you", the one on the right said.

"Is McGonnagall really your mum, or did we here wrong?" the left said.

"And what did you say to the hat? Your were on there for half an hour." The right said.

"Did earn us a bit of coin though", the left said cheeringly.

"That he did", the right replied, "Can you talk kid?"

Mark had been sitting in utter silence as they bombarded him with questions due to the rather personal and inaccurate nature of the queries. That and the headmaster was over speaking twins by some degree, so their questions were hardly noticeable.

"First things first", the American muttered, "He's not my dad, she's not my mom. I never knew anyone here until this morning at the train".

"Likely", they said in unison sarcastic tone.

"Lastly!" The headmaster prepared to finish, "I couple opening term words".

All eyes were on the old man, but Mark couldn't help himself looking around and counting how many gingers were at his table and how they all looked very related.

"Nitwit, blubber, oddment, tweak", the man finished with a smirk, "Goodnight to all of you".

"Is he mad?" Mark asked in sudden concern his long lost relative was not mentally stable.

"Dumbledore?" the left twin asked, "He's brilliant".

"We're Fred and George Weasly by the way, third years in your new house" Fred said.

With that pleasant note, the two Weasly brothers strutted off to cause general mayhem among the first years, excluding Mark.

The young Dumbledore tried to catch up to Harry as best he could, but when they reached the moving stairs, the American was left a floor below. He didn't stay long though; Snape grabbed him by the shoulder and directed him toward back towards the great hall.

"Professor, let me go!" Mark protested, "I have to get to the common room and do some damage control with Harry!"

"That…" Snape began, "Is precisely why I am directing you towards your long lost uncle."

"Wait a tick…" Mark mutters, "You knew didn't you! You knew the entire time that I had an uncle and yet you let me go on believing my family was all dead!"

Mark tried to stay behind, but Severus was strong enough to drag the boy. Despite the constant attempts at freedom from the boy, they both made it to the headmaster's office and up the stairs in no time.

It was a grand room filled with portraits of previous headmasters and thick with shelves of books. On a high shelf, among a place of honor, the sorting hat winked at Mark. In the exact center of the room was a large, and rather worn, desk with scattered papers over it and a single quill and ink well in the top right hand corner. Behind this desk, in an even grander throne, was the same old man that had orchestrated the opening ceremonies.

Mark was sat down with rough force to face him. Snape shuffled silently to a dark corner were he sat and uncorked a bottle.

"It is customary to offer a drink before gulping down a bottle, Severus", the old man said with a well-humored smile on his face, "Perhaps this lad would have liked a swig after the day he's had".

The casualness with which his uncle spoke threw Mark for a loop. It didn't seem like the kind of thing a man who just discovered he had family after years of solitude would say.

The boy cleared his throat and spoke, "Did you know about me sir?"

The old man took his focus off of Snape and for the first time gazed at Mark. His bright eyes pierced into the boys cold, steely ones.

"Hmm?" the old man said, "Did I know of your presence in Britain? Or did I simply know of your existence? The short answer would be yes. Hold on! Before you think of me as some inconsiderate fool, I must tell you, I never knew that you were my nephew. Like with your old companion, Stan, I was only told your first name".

The excuse was plausible, if nothing else. It didn't seem overly detailed though, and if the brief training a government facility can teach a child counted for anything, details mattered.

"You were simply never told?" the young Dumbledore asked, "That seems exceedingly unlikely given your advanced position both the British government and European continental magic governments in general".

The old man raised an eyebrow causally and gestured to a bowl of small yellow candies that Mark had previously not noticed, "Lemon drop? I find they ease the troubles off one's mind immensely".

"Answer the question".

"Very well, but you are missing out quite a bit", the headmaster replied as he popped several of the treats into his mouth, "Truth be told, you can blame your so-called native land. The American warlocks might have fused their governments secretly with that of the muggles, but outside of their own people they are very untrusting. Did you even know about them until they abducted you from your own fathers funeral?"

The boy sat in his small chair opposite the vast throne and stared at the grand desk. Then a thought occurred to him.

"If you have such limited information then how did you know I was abducted from my fathers funeral without knowing my last name?"

"Quite observant, you truly are of my family .It was a part of your report that I was given months ago when it was determined you would be the agent coming to Britain", Albus said bluntly, "Now stop with all these intrusive questions. I have just discovered that I had a great nephew and I want to get to know you."

The sat there taking for nearly an hour in that office. They talked of the events of the last year in detail and the previous ones with vague memories.

For the first time in a very long time Mark felt at ease with his life. Something about his uncle's presence made him feel safe. It made him wish to stay in that office forever. Sadly as the hourglass slowly drained grain by grain it soon became time for bed.

Snape dignified this by tugging firmly on the boys collar.

"It appears I have kept you for to long, my boy", Albus said with a charismatic twinkle in his eye, "Although Severus despises your new house, I am sure that he will be more than happy to guide you to your new common room".

"Thank, sir", the young Dumbledore said as he walked towards the door, "Oh, and thank you for explaining everything for me".

The headmaster chuckled warmly, "It was my pleasure, Mark. I'm sure we will have another of these meetings very soon".

With that sentiment, the potions master grabbed Mark by the collar and dragged him out of the office and towards the oddly mobile stairs. At this point in the evening, they didn't seem nearly as odd as they would have.

During the long walk, the boy made several attempts at conversation with his teacher, but the man seemed entirely hell bent on not letting any sign of coherent thought out of his lips.

They finally stopped at a portrait of a fat lady. Snape spat out a password and literally threw Mark into the common room. He had hoped for a quiet walk to his bed and being able to crawl under some covers.

He was sorely disappointed.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP 

Harry was having one of those days, when things just seem to come together perfectly, but in a way that is entirely unexpected and perhaps a bit unorthodoxly.

Not only were Mark, Justin, and Susan wizards, but also they just so happened to be in the same year as him at the same magical school. Harry was often more accepting of coincidence than the next guy, it helped his brain deal with everything that seems to happen to him specifically, but this was a bit much.

Mark he could rationalize, he was of British decent yes, but from America. He could very well use that excuse to explain why he didn't know Harry was a wizard and the-boy-who-lived. Perhaps this even explains why he had those potions; maybe they were of magical origin.

Justin was a bit more peculiar. He was British and lived in the same area for their entire lives. On the other hand he was adopted, he could have been born to a magical family, but raised by a muggle family. He very well could have had no idea about the magical world until a few weeks ago.

Susan was the oddball though. All her odd behavior before and the period of distorted memory in her presence, which are all explained with magic. What was her reasoning with coming to Little Whining and targeting Justin, Harry, and Mark though? Conceptually speaking it was just too much.

Then there was his fellow Gryffindors. Maybe it was his lack of human interaction with more than a handful of people, but their motives for talking to him seemed all trivial and pointless. More than once they just seemed like they were trying to befriend him to gain some fame for themselves.

Ron was slightly better than the rest; he seemed kind of loyal towards Harry even though they had just met. That didn't change how grateful Harry was for Ron boxing out all the people trying to get a hold of Harry.

Needless to say though, the evening was bloody mad until the first years went to their dormitory. People were still harassing Harry, but there was less now and all of them were Harry's age.

The night had almost taken a turn for the better when a mysteriously content looking Mark slowly made his way to the bed left of Harry's. When the boy who had previously set up his belongings there protested, Mark grabbed his arm by the wrist and elbowed the joint. The boy whimpered away and Mark collapsed on his new bed.

He then cocked his head towards Harry and said, "Hi Harry, sorry 'bout earlier".

"Err…" the-boy-who-lived muttered, "Hi to you as well. I have a couple of questions, of you're up for them that is".

"If it's about me being a wizard, I would have told you, but I didn't know you were", Mark began, "Of course I wasn't surprised to see you here though, I learned after going to Diagon alley that you were who you were. Frankly I'm surprised nobody told me I made friends with a famous wizard. They probably didn't want me to tell you who you are, if that makes sense".

"That is utter gibberish," Ron said, butting into the conversation from the bed right of Harry's, "Nothing you said made sense. Besides, how could any British wizard no matter who they are or where they live not know who Harry Potter is?"

"Well for the first part he's American, so he never was told about me or he-who-must-not-be-named", Harry began.

"Then why is he even in Great Britain in the first place?" one of the boys said.

"I've been living with my uncle", Mark said very quickly.

"Oh yah, been meaning to ask about that", Harry started, "Who is your uncle? We went to muggle-school together for a year and I never once saw or even heard of him. Who is he?"

The young American suddenly became very sullen and depressed. I hard, cold gaze fell upon his face with such speed that it almost seemed unnatural. The entire atmosphere of the previously warm dorm room froze up as that question hung in the air.

"Uh… Mark?" Harry asked.

"He's my foster parent", Mark muttered almost inaudibly at last breaking the spell his emotions had cast on the group.

"I thought he was your uncle", Harry muttered back, "I'm sorry, but you know that I understand how you feel".

"Yah", the Dumbledore boy replied, "That's probably the reason I first sought out your friendship above all the other kids in the town. You understood".

The other boys in the room were trying to look like they weren't paying attention, but Harry read between the lines. Things were getting far too emotional for his liking anyways.

"We can talk about this stuff later, right Mark?"

"Of course", he answered, "This is getting way to emotional for my taste anyways".

"My sentiments exactly", Harry said, "One last thing though, where were you tonight? I could have used your help to keep the other Gryffindors at arms length. They were worse than Carter and Markepeace combined. Granted there was dozens of them, but still".

"Well I was with my newly discovered, completely legitimate, uncle", Mark said.

"So its true then", Ron added, "The Headmaster is your great uncle isn't he? How is that even possible?"

"Well", Mark started, "Apparently my grandfather traveled to America were he was young where he met my grandmother. Before he knew what happened he was drafted into British military (the magical British of course). My Grandmother was pregnant with my father it seems. My uncle didn't even know that my grandfather was seeing someone or he would have used his connections to get him out of the draft, or at least that's what he told me. The rest is a mystery I suppose; I was very young when both my parents passed. None knew I wasn't British here because Harry helped with the accent when I first came and I do have a mostly British genealogy (about two-thirds I think). As it turns out the American magical society sends as many of their children here as possible, older and more established schools here, you understand."

"Blimey guys", one of the first years said, "It's all very interesting that he's from America and he's Harry Potter and that junk, but I'm tired. Could you kindly shut it so we can sleep?"

With that lovely sentiment, the lights were extinguished and the room became silent except for the subtle noises of sleep.

_He ran._

_That's all he did. When you're chased by something so ferocious you have little options._

_Mark passed a corner and slammed himself against the wall in an attempt to hide him. He couldn't stop hyperventilating despite his deep desire to remain silent._

_His sweat clouded his vision as it ran down his forehead. He could still here that terrible groaning, but risked a brief glance around the wall to see if he lost it._

_It pounced!_

_He looked at its snarling face as its mouth slowly opened wider. That pale skin, pure black orbs for eyes, the two lines running down its face, and that giant mouth with the multitude of teeth._

_Then it went in to bite…_

Mark bolted up in a cold sweat, his heart pounding against his chest. It had been years since he had that dream about that… thing. In the past couple of years he was always distracted with the task at hand, but now when it was at last safe he felt that horrible, soul crushing feeling of emptiness.

He also could swear he could hear that groaning from his dream, or perhaps it was just his tense nerves playing games with his vulnerable psyche. Whatever it was, it scared him out of his mind.

After almost an hour of silent panting, the boy finally decided to get out of his bed and walk to the common room. Thankfully, a low flame seemed to still be smoldering in the fireplace. The young Dumbledore stoked it with a poker and added another log before he noticed someone sitting behind him.

"You have a nightmare too Mark?" Harry said as he rearranged the blanket he had wrapped around his shoulders, "Thanks for adding a log by the way, I was meaning to do that for a while, but I didn't want to move".

Mark sat in the other chair that was facing the fireplace and made himself comfortable.

"It's weird to be up this late", the American, commented.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, "With all those problems last year we never really did get any sleep".

"I just mean even with all the wards and protections around us we still feel unsafe enough to have nightmares", Mark said, "Life's funny like that I guess. What were you dreaming about anyways?"

Harry smiled crookedly, "I'll give you a hint, who before last year had done something so terrible that I would have nightmares about him?"

Mark tapped his chairs arm for a moment before it hit him like a pile of bricks, "Oh, it was _him_ was it? Must have been horrifying, is there anything I can do for you?"

Harry chuckled a bit, "No, I've been through this enough times to deal with it on my own. You didn't see the Dursley's helping me when I would have the same reoccurring dream at their home. That same scene, my mother speaking frantically, that snake like face staring down, the green light…"

At that point Harry shuddered a bit and gazed into the distance for a couple minutes before he finally snapped out of it and looked back at Mark.

"Sorry, I'm not used to talking about this", the-boy-who-lived said apologetically, "By the way, what could have scared you to the point that you wanted to find an escape? Must be something terrifying".

It was Marks turn to give his own crooked smile, "I have my own reoccurring nightmare. I think mine must be a little less realistic than yours though. I have the same vision of myself being chased down a long street by a ravenous beast. Before you ask, it looks like a featureless man with a completely snow white body that might as well be a mannequin except for the face. There's barely the slightest hint of a nose between to pure black orbs for eyes, but that's not the worst part. The mouth stretches in a gruesome smile from ear to ear, full of teeth. I hide behind a building, but it finds me and I wake up as it… bites".

"That sounds horrible" Harry said, "What could have possibly inspired such a vision?"

Mark glanced sideways at Harry, "This is going to sound crazy".

"About as crazy as a muggle boy who can move things with his mind and have conversations with a wild animal?" the Potter joked.

"Well if you insist", he began slowly, "I also have a vision of my mothers death, but it's with that creature. I know my mom died when I was young, but my dad, the only one who knew how, never told me".

They sat in contemplation of their newfound revelations on each other's lives. They didn't speak for some time, but rested on their chairs and occasionally added another log to the fire. Neither wanted to go back to sleep, but they also didn't want to stay up for the entire night when they had classes the next morning.

Just as they were both about to reach a consensus of going back to the dormitory, they swiveled their heads quickly around to the direction of the portrait of the fat lady. From the entryway, the headmaster made his way in.

"You both should be in bed", he said with a bit of kind discipline, "I have been informed that you both are in Severus's class early next morning and it may be unfortunate if you both fall asleep on you first day".

Mark smiled slightly; he could do even the hardest first year potions work literally in his sleep.

"Uh… sir?" Harry began, "If you don't mind me asking, why are you here in the middle of the night?"

"Well the answer is actually quite simple my boys", Albus said, "The portraits".

"The portraits?" Mark asked.

"The portraits indeed", Dumbledore answered confidently, "they tend to explain some of the things that may be of interest, especially when it involves two first years of famous lineage staying up in the middle of the night for no apparent reason".

The boy's faces boy flushed red at those words and with the thought that the paintings around them would easily and willingly give up their actions through petty gossip. A safe place without portraits would have to be discovered soon if Mark was to continue his independent training regiments.

"You two should really get some rest", the old man said with a now worried twinkle in his eyes, "If tomorrow is anything like today, and I know it will be, you will need your rest. Here, I took the liberty to bring two vials of a rather potent sleeping draft from my private supply".

The boys accepted the vials quite graciously and chugged them down simultaneously without the slightest hint of doubt. Mark instantly felt exhausted and by looking at his friends face, he could tell Harry felt the same.

"Hurry to bed you two", the headmaster said cheerily, "I find a good rest is excellent for forgetting the stresses of the day".

They walked up to their beds and collapsed without a second thought.

"Ah, Severus", Albus said as he gazed soulfully at his right-hand man, "I am so pleased you could make it to this meeting at this ungodly hour in the morning".

The potions master didn't seem amused with the visit, "I am currently crafting a very special potion that requires constant vigilance over ten full moon periods in order to develop completely and this is the tenth moon, so if this could be rushed, I would be appreciative".

The old man looked amused, if not a bit mistrusting. He began tapping his aged fingers on the grand desk and slowly smiled at the professor.

"Ten lunar cycles was it?" the headmaster mused, "You wouldn't happen to be brewing occlumency elixirs, would you? I don't need to remind you what the punishments are for such a blatant disregard for my authority would be."

Snape gulped slowly and began perspiring slightly. He reached for the flask in his cloak, but was stopped by his master's hand.

"I prefer your sober answers to your drunken ones", Albus explained, "I find the rapidly produced fabrications far more entertaining than the drunken farces".

The potions-master loosened his grip on the flask and slowly pulled his hand out, "You misinterpret me headmaster, and I was merely quenching my thirst. You know very well that an occlumency potion can only be made on new moons to signify the closing of the mind. The full moon represents an opening of the mind is the regards of mental potions".

The tapping stopped, "Right you are Snape. Now that the matter of your loyalty is finished, on to the business at hand; in order for the three to be ready by time for my first experiment, they need to have a very powerful, and refined, body and mind".

"I am well aware", Snape replied, "What does this have to do with me?"

"You are the only one I know I can trust, because you are the only one that knows the consequences of defying me", Dumbledore began, "Mark and Harry both require a sped up education process, but they can't be learning the same advanced material at the same time".

He paused and slid a peace of paper across the desk.

"You'll find that sheet contains a focused and detailed summary of which subjects the boys should be learning when" he continued, "You'll notice that neither sheet contains potions or defense against the dark arts. I have instructed professor Qurirel to subtly offer extra help and give a book or two that might improve progress. As for potions, Mark will most likely continue his studies alone for he has the proper material and aptitude to do so. As for Harry, you must drill him relentlessly in class in order to ensure his proper development. Understood?"

"Understood", Snape replied, "I will use means of subconscious suggestion to encourage the advancement in their studies, only during the subscribed times of course. You did give the sleeping the potion laced with draught of suggestion to the boys?"

"Yes", Albus answered, "It never ceases to amaze me what you can craft on short notice. As soon as the took the drinks, they fell into a trance and accepted my orders forget there curiosities about how all these improbable things came together. If the potion holds, they may never question their lives again".

"One thing before I go though", Snape muttered cautiously, "What of the third?"

"Oh yes, _him_", Dumbledore mused, "I allowed him entry into the barriers of the castle not one hour ago. He simply would stop charging at the magic walls anyways. Perhaps he would have found his way in anyways, if only by sheer force of will".

"He wanders the halls then?" Severus asked.

"Yes", the headmaster replied, "Do watch yourself as you walk to the dungeon now. I would hate for you to turn up dead from stabbing tomorrow morning. You may go".

Severus turned and left, a smile grew quickly on his face. This night may not have been a total loss; the occlumency elixir had been completed half a lunar cycle ago.

All I can say is thanks for reading and sorry taking so long on the update, writer's block and whatnot. Suggestions for future chapter concepts and guesses for what old Dumbledore is planning (greatest plot idea I've ever come up with by the way) will be graciously accepted.


	7. The Term Begins

**Harry Potter and the Foe Glass: book 2**

**Ch. 7 The Term Begins**

**As classes commence and Mark and Harry's curiosity are dowsed for a while, things begin to resemble normality, or so it seems. Binns the ghost must go due to incompetence and the perfect replacement is ready, for purely academic reasons of course.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter/other characters/concepts**

**Information regarding scene changes**

**_ =generic scene change**

**_~clever comment~ _=specified scene, in order to better describe a location Ex. So you don't have to read the scene descriptions for the Great Hall a billion times**

HPHPHPHP, MDMDMDMD, PHPHPHPHPH, =**Announces that the character to which the initials are of will be who the view point is written around in the following segment.**

The morning air was pleasant enough and as was the mornings birdsongs. That, however, was the problem. It was morning and despite the potion Harry had taken to keep him asleep, he didn't feel like he had been in his bed for more than an instant. The sun didn't lie though and it was shining well over the horizon. The-boy-who-lived couldn't spend any more time fighting his fatigue this morning though, everyone else had left and it was time he had some breakfast.

Thankfully for Harry's sake, the crowds that had plagued him last night were nowhere to be seen and the stairs had been polite enough to make the proper arrangement for him to speedily descend to the great hall. He was even more pleased to see the platters full of food lying at regular intervals on each table. Harry chose a seat near the outskirts of Gryffindors table and was soon joined Ron to left of him and Mark across the table.

Harry grabbed a handful of bacon as Ron spoke to him in-between mouthfuls.

"So mate", the ginger began, "Mark here told me about how you two were friends before you came to Hogwarts and that you also had associations with those (Ron shuddered about as he pointed at Justin and Susan) _Slytherins _over there. Why anyone would like to spend a moment with a couple of snake bigots I don't know".

Mark flicked Ron on the ear, "I already told you, the girl is the bigot, but the boy is our friend. Say it with me now Ron f-r-i-e-n-d, despite his house. I was almost put into Slytherin by the hat myself, but I had a far greater desire to be in Gryffindor."

"Really? How split does your personality have to be for you to be on the border between Slytherin and Gryffindor?" Ron asked sarcastically, "Am I right Harry?"

The-boy-who-lived looked up from his breakfast for the first time and said, "I was almost put into Slytherin myself until I told the hat otherwise. The company here are far better you see. Those snakes gave me a very bad feeling".

The Weasly was a bit thrown off by Harry's statement, but quickly reasserted himself by saying, "Well, at least you blokes have got that right. Hurry it up Harry! We're going to be late for transfiguration".

With that sentiment the three stood up and each tried to shovel in one last bit of breakfast before it magically disappeared before them.

The three arrived in transfiguration nearly an hour later after wandering aimlessly for an hour before finally finding the correct classroom by finding the place marked the 'transfiguration courtyard' and going into the only classroom there. Harry tried to take a seat near the back as he marveled at his miraculously close call, when the cat he had previously not noticed on the teacher's desk leaped off and morphed into the form of a stern looking woman right before there eyes.

"That was brilliant!" Ron exclaimed, as his eyes lit up like a child's after seeing a new game he wants to try.

"Well, perhaps next I should transfigure Mr. Potter, Mr. Dumbledore, and yourself into a watch, so you might be on time".

"We lost our way professor," Mark interjected.

"Then perhaps a map?" the instructor suggested, "Now do take your seats, so I can begin class".

Class ended a few hours later and the assorted students gathered their belongings and left. Harry and Ron wanted to take advantage of the free period and visit the groundskeeper for some reason, but Mark had other plans. Next class was potions and it was time to check in with his handler to pick and stash a few things.

The walk to the dungeon was peaceful enough, despite the occasional jibe from Slytherin students. To his dismay, Mark didn't find either Justin or Susan anywhere near the potions classroom, so he assumed they also must have a free period before joining the Gryffindors for double potions. He could find them later though; he had arrived at Snape's office and found the door thrust open in front of him.

"You're late child", the potions master began with a sneer, "Your previous class ended nearly twenty minutes ago and at the slowest it should merely take twelve minutes to arrive at my doorstep. Oh never mind, I have a tonic for you. Drink it in slow gulps for maximum effect"

The teacher forced a large bottle into Mark's hand. The boy did as he was told, with obvious reluctance and gagged a bit as it went down.

"What is that, if you don't mind my asking?" Mark asked, "Not that I don't trust you, but I did just drink a large sum of unknown and admittedly nasty liquid".

Severus's lips curled slightly into a smile, "It's better you didn't know".

"Very well", the boy said with a sigh, "I have my official report ready".

"We don't have all day _whelp_".

He cleared his throat dramatically; "I have settled in and released a plausible back story about my coming to Hogwarts. The other students are aware of my foreign status, but not of my true purpose for coming here. I have placed myself in a position next to Harry in any occurrence possible to keep out unsavory characters. Ron Weasley has made a point to do the same for reasons unknown to me; my current assumption is that he wants a famous friend. To report, Harry's behavior to the appearance of Justin, Susan, and myself has been… well… trying, but ultimately accepting. That is all".

Snape sat behind his desk and folded his hands in front of his face, contemplating the words he had just heard. Mark stood at attention as he had long been taught to do when waiting for his supervisor to remark.

"Most…._ Unsatisfactory_", Snape said at last with a soft tone slightly leaning towards scolding, "Were you not under the instructions to distance yourself from Potter to avoid unsavory circumstance? Don't think I have forgotten about the incident before the sorting, Draco is my godson you know and his father was most infuriated with the entire occurrence".

"But sir! I couldn't just stand by and allow that punk to manipulate Harry into being his friend!"

The potions master glared daggers at the boy in response to his remarks, "Manipulate him to being his friend? Quite a familiar concept isn't whelp?"

"That's different…" Mark replied in a defeated tone, "My intentions are noble".

"Yes", he answered sarcastically, "How noble to deceive a boy into believing everything that went wrong in his life was coincidence and that you were the only one he could trust. I repeat, you are to keep your distance from Potter. Stay aware of his movements and guide him down safe paths from afar, but do not openly stay with him. Understood?"

The boy swallowed his pride. "Understood".

"Now that bit of business is concluded", Severus said with a soft and emotionless voice, "Have you set up the cauldron and supplies I so painstakingly provided for you?"

"Actually professor, I was hoping you would allow me to prepare potions directly in this classroom for practicality's sake", Mark replied hopefully, "It would be easier to gain your insights here as well given your office is a knock away".

"That would be quite… impossible", the professor explained dryly, "It would not do well for appearances if a Gryffindor was spending all of his time with the Slytherin head of house, mine or yours. You would be a disgrace among lions, though funny that may be; I cannot allow your status as a neutral entity to be compromised. Take it from one who knows, picking the incorrect side can make life… _complicated_".

"Then what might you suggest?" Mark asked.

Severus's lips curled into a slight grin, "There is a certain women's lavatory that will fit your purposes well".

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP 

All was silent in the cold dungeon as Harry and Ron chose their seats. To Harry's dismay, Mark had decided to sit far on the other side of the classroom, very far in the back right hand corner. The professor had yet to arrive and several students were playing with charms they had learned earlier that day.

Then he entered.

In a burst of dark brooding, the potions professor marched into the room, instantly all was silent and the room seemed to freez over with tension. "There will be no silly wand waving in this class".

"Few can appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion making or the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron. For those with the predisposition I can teach you to brew fame, bottle glory and even put a stopper in death, if you aren't dunderheads as big as the students I usually have to teach."

Harry was busily taking notes on everything his teacher was saying, sadly this made it appear that he wasn't paying attention to anything that Snape was explaining.

"That is if we find it prudent to pay attention!" professor Snape said coldly in Harry's direction, "But then again, some of us have come to Hogwarts with talents so formidable they feel confident enough to not pay attention. Well, Well, if it isn't Mr. Potter, our new celebrity?

"Tell me what would you get from a mixture of asphodel and wormwood? "

"I don't know, sir"

"Typical, Now what is this the difference between monk's hood and wolfsbane?"

"I don't know"

"Of course, and what is an a bezoar?"

"No idea"

"Well then", Snape began with a condescending tone, "I guess fame isn't everything, is it?"

"Hermione clearly knows, so why not ask her?" he said in rebuttal.

It was true, the young witch had been straining her arm be raising it as high into the air as it could possibly get without popping out of her socket. Snape seemed unimpressed.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for Ms. Grangers obvious impatience. Perhaps you might earn them back, Mr. Dumbledore", the potions master announced.

Mark instantly bolted into perfect posture and began to recite the answers as if he had known these questions for a year, "Asphodel and wormwood combine to make a potent sleeping draft known as draft of the living dead. As for the second question, there is no difference, monk's hood and wolfsbane are the same and they also go by the name of aconite. Lastly, a bezoar is a stone that is taken from the stomach of a goat and defends against most poisons".

Mark leaned back, sufficiently proud of his ability to recite so accurately. The rest of the class sat in silence, awaiting their infamous teachers response to a Gryffindor answering so perfectly. A few Slytherin flipped through their books to check his answers, it took them a few minutes to realize this material was too advanced to be in a first year primer. The few who still had their gazes locked on Snape saw a certain degree of conflict in his face.

"One point to Gryffindor", Snape said with a look that made one think he might have just slapped his mother in the face, "Now open your books to page forty-five and began preparing your caldrons".

Mark couldn't believe it. Snape was so unoriginal! He gave the very same speech that Mark had heard the very first day he had begun his potions training at Snape's place back in little Whinging. Last year it had actually been mildly impressive, but having discovered it to be a rehearsed and redone line! He should have known, Snape may be brilliant with potions, but he did not contain a creative bone in his body.

The professors deceptions aside, he did give Mark a job and now the last class of the day (history of magic) was over, it was time see it through. He grabbed his cauldron, all of his secret and contraband supplies were shrunken in the secret bottom compartment. Only his broom wasn't there, but then again it was still transfigured into the broom-shaped pin on his robes.

It wasn't until after the workday that the young American began to question the orders though. Setting up some in some innocuous girls bathroom? He didn't like the concept of being called a pervert by the majority of the female student body, but despite his volatile nature, Snape hadn't steered him wrong once. Perhaps this was a secret bathroom no one knew about, or it was so out of the way no one used it.

Mark arrived on the point on his new school map the Snape had marked and found it was neither. In fact this seemed to be a rather large lavatory positioned at the intersection of two well-traveled hallways. The boy took a deep breath and steeped inside. The interior was innocent enough, a circular room with a sinks positioned in a circular manner in the center of the room, on the left hand side a rectangular attachment lined on the long sides with green stalls. On the far side of the circular area, opposite the door, a few textured let natural light in, but didn't allow a view of the outdoors.

He sighed deeply and walked to the wall near the windows and took his miniature materials out and tapped them once with his wand to make them grow to full size. Instantly, a cauldron the was half as tall as Mark, a meager bookshelf full of herbology and potion primers, and a rather generous shelf of live plant specimen along with prepared ingredients. For the hell of it, he took out his sword, the basilisk blade, and stowed it behind in the bookshelf.

Once the supplies were arranged for maximum space for the cauldron and burner, maximum light for the plants, and minimum dampness for the books (they were beyond the sinks opposite the stalls), it happened.

All at once every toilet burst with water that jutted upward in a geyser-like stream. From everywhere and nowhere came a menacing voice saying, "Who dares enter my bathroom?"

"Er… Mark Dumbledore", he began, "First year Gryffindor, here to set up a potions lab".

Instantly the head of a little ghost girl rose up from the floor tiles. The water stopped and receded before hitting reaching Mark. Then the girl flew up in a series of summersaults and loop-de-loops until she settled before down right in front of Mark. She was short and young, probably no older than twelve; she wore glasses and was slightly on the pudgy side.

"Hello Mark", she said in a way that seemed too interested in Mark for his liking, "I'm Myrtle, welcome to my bathroom".

"Hello Myrtle", the boy said awkwardly, "I did wonder why people didn't frequent this lavatory, but you don't seem to bad".

"Oooh, that's sweet", she replied, "I don't get that much company, you can stay as long as you like. In fact, I wouldn't even mind if you slept here".

Mark backed away a couple steps from the ghost girl. She was getting uncomfortably close, "That's… er… alright. If you can excuse me for a moment, I'm going to get a couple of my friends if that's alright".

"If there anyone like you the more the merrier", Myrtle said cheerfully as she practiced falling through the air like a leaf, swaying back and forth.

That tore it, Mark couldn't stay in here, at least not without other people around to break the tension and there are only two people he trusts to know this location right now, Harry and Justin. Since he needed to keep his distance from Harry, that, unfortunately, left Susan.

"Dumbledore!" Susan Makepeace yelled, "Where are you taking us!"

Mark hadn't had the time to explain his predicament in the dungeons, to many Slytherin for him to have a peaceful conversation. Needless to say they were confused.

"Yah mate, not that I don't getting away from those bloody snakes", Justin remarked, "They hate Susan because she was black listed and because little miss special here decided she didn't like loneliness and let it be known that I had muggle step parents. They say I'm the only non-pureblood Slytherin in a hundred years and that isn't a good thing".

"Blame William Grey", Makepeace said quietly.

Everyone nodded quietly.

William Grey was indeed worthy of much of the grief these children had felt. Be it for Mark, by murdering his original contact Stan. Be it for Justin, by constantly instigating murder attempts and, once, trying to kill him in person all for a little amulet. Or Susan, who was naive enough to believe that her uncle would help get back into good graces after she was shunned for losing her families prized sword i.e. the one Mark kept with his books. All in all, the man was a death eater, liar, cheat, murder, and had rather bad breath. The present group of children could forget the others, but bad breath! That was unforgivable.

They shrugged off their discussion and accepted they were stuck together whether they wanted to or not. When they were nearly to the correct floor, they saw an all to familiar figure standing in the doorway blocking the path.

"Three little birdies fly willing into the cat's claw. Where is the fourth I wonder? It is so dreadfully hard to navigate this, er, magical space, especially since this entire castle is still invisible to me. I was beginning to lose hope".

"Crow! What the bloody hell are you doing here!" Mark exclaimed as he backed up a bit, "The wards! The secrecy! The magic! …. The wards!"

The muggle merely grinned at his victims as he played with a large knife by tossing it up in the air the balancing the point on his finger. He never failed his feat. He did however take a step forward.

"How rude of you old friend", the child said, his cold blue eyes shining with a spark of insanity, "I've had a very long walk and you treat me so harshly? Could you at least tell me if I'm near the staircase again? I've fallen more times than I can count. It would probably have caused a seen if any of the stupid ones could actually see me".

Mark took this as a chance for escape. The staircase they were standing on had previously led them straight to Crow, but it had since moved twenty degrees to the right, so nothing but air was in front of the psycho. He looked at Susan and Justin, hoping they would follow with his plan.

"You're perfectly safe", Susan said, picking up Marks idea after a mere glance, she picked up melodramatically "You can walk right to us and, oh how vulnerable we would be".

She pressed her hands against her cheeks in a worried sort of way.

"Very well…" Crow mused cautiously, "Someone who isn't a liar tell me. (Mark raised his hand) Not you! I know the kind of lying you're capable of. Hmm… you, the funny one, you don't usually lie to people".

"Me?" Justin asked.

"Yes you", Crow answered soulfully, "You often have amused me with your wry comments and sad life. I find the tragedy you mask with comedy quite… refreshing".

"Er… well, yes", he began, "It is perfectly safe for you to step forward precisely seven steps".

The insane boy counted his steps forward. He made it to three before he fell three stories. The other three didn't waste time, so they ran directly for the hallway. They made it directly before the bathroom before their unfortunate friend pulled himself up after them. The muggle began laughing wildly and flailing his dagger back and forth at them.

"We can't out run him", Justin said in a hurried burst, "What are we going to do Mark".

The American looked to see both the other kids looking at him expectantly. He couldn't blame them though, he had survived this kind of things months before either of them got involved.

"Barricade the bathroom", he yelled out, "He sometimes gets bored and leaves after a while!"

They did as he said and locked up the girl's lavatory tight. All was quiet for at least twenty minutes, they were in too much shock to talk and Myrtle didn't make an appearance for some reason. Then they something clawing its way up the outside wall.

"I'm coming for you three!" the mad voice called out.

And come he did, bursting through the glass. Shards fell everywhere, but that wasn't what the trio of three was scared of. They were more preoccupied with the boy slowly walking towards them.

"Anyone know any combat spells", Justin asked as the three pressed themselves against the doorway".

"No", Mark replied, "And my sword is in the case behind… him".

Susan managed to spurt out a couple frightened words, "Only know… a couple charms. No good!"

They nearly accepted there fate when Crow swiveled his head left and right, "I feel… a disturbance, the likes of which I haven't felt in sometime. It is almost like a spook is right here… there isn't one is there?"

As if on cue, Myrtle floated right in front of Crows face, "Are you a friend of Mark? Welcome to my home! I love it here and never leave, I hope you will too".

"G-g-ghost!" the mad man cried out in terror, "You're all crazy! Well crazier than me to stay with a spook! I'm outa here!"

Just like that, he bounded right back out the window. Myrtle shrugged off his action and sunk back into the pipe work. Susan let out a deep sigh and pulled her wand out. She said "Occulus Reparo", and instantly the glass began to shift back into position and the seams between cracks vanished. She smiled and said, "What? When my parents cut me off I stopped receiving new things, but I wasn't just about to go around with broken possessions".

"Fascinating", Justin said, "Magic is truly a remarkable thing to behold".

"Agreed", Mark added, "But even more important than Susan finally making herself useful to the group, we just found a way to keep Crow away from us. Even if his body is impervious to wards, his own fears can be used to keep us safe".

_~Later, back in the hall of justice… er, Gryffindor common room~_

"Mark! Where have you been?" Harry yelled out as his friend finally trudged into the common room late in the evening, "We missed you at lunch and dinner".

The American merely looked up and said, "I've been kind of busy".

Before Harry could say something the other Gryffindors noticed Mark and erupted in cheer.

"Look!" one of the Weasly twins shouted out, "It's the first year who got a point out of Snape!"

"I heard he outsmarted the old bat and humiliated him in front of his whole house!" the other added.

Many of the other students surrounded Mark asking questions like "What was it like?" and "Were you scared" along with various other phrases. It took nearly ten minutes of questioning that Mark had continuously avoided answering openly before an upperclassman named Oliver Wood asked the correct question, "how the hell did you get so good with potions anyways? I've never met a Gryffindor even in my year with that much specific knowledge memorized".

"Well… I practice a lot", he said, hoping to finally quench their insatiable curiosities.

"How much practice?" a fourth year asked.

Harry could see that Mark had bit his lip as if he was contemplating whether or not to reveal something. Of course Harry knew exactly how much Mark practiced potions.

"About this much", Mark said as he pulled his robes apart to reveal his black undershirt, an undershirt that was strapped to the brim with vials of swirling potions. Several contained the black powder that Harry knew would make a smokescreen, a dozen more contained the violent liquid that would explode when tossed, but a vast majority of them contained brews that the-boy-who-lived had never seen.

Several gasps could be heard in the peanut gallery that had formed in a semi-circle around the Dumbledore boy. Small murmurs spread regarding what might be present in the vials. The general consensus was inconclusive.

"Uh…. Mark, buddy?" one of the Weasly twins started, George probably, "What you got there?"

"And should we be worried about… blowing up?" the other asked.

Mark laughed a bit, "Not unless a uncork the vials. If I do we're all goners. But on a serious note, the vials are completely indestructible until the cork is set loose and then there is still about a seven second period before any active effects happen."

The excitement lasted for only a couple minutes more before the groups dispersed. As it turned out the Weasly twins were the last to leave, they seemed excited about some project they had needed a potion maker for. Harry, and Ron of course, walked over to Mark when he finally sat down in the corner of the common room by the windows.

"So Mark", Harry asked curiously, "You've been busy. What kind of business".

"The kind that involves the things we did last year that, and trust me on this one, your better off not knowing about", the American answered with a tired sigh.

"What kind of lame excuse is that?" Ron asked, "And why do you have to be so vague about it?"

"No Ron, he's right", Harry, acknowledged, "I know exactly what he means and exactly why he won't tell me. You didn't go through what we went through. The kind of stuff that leaves us awake at night, wondering if someone going to kill you in your sleep. I just kinda thought that stuff was over, that we were safe".

Ron became very quiet for the rest of the conversation after that statement. Harry decided he must not be as stupid as he acts if he picked up on the signal to butt out so easily.

"It is over", Mark said reassuringly, "Well for you anyways. Like I said, I just have some business. Now if you'd excuse me, I have to go".

"Go where?" Potter asked, "It's already nearly time for bed. Won't you get in trouble for being out in the castle this late?"

Mark was already up and walking towards the door, "Not when your going to see the one who decides if your in trouble or not (Ron looked confused) the headmaster that is", his voice suddenly became grim, "Harry, by the way, he made it here past the wards and into the castle. If he finds you hide around a ghost, today I discovered he fears them above all things".

Harry gulped, because he knew exactly who _he _was.

_~In the headmaster's office- Snape, Mark, and Albus are in their usual seats~_

The scene was that of peaceful tranquility as Mark and his great-uncle sipped tea leisurely and had the occasional piece of shortbread. Snape sat in the darkest corner, sitting so still that he looked like a statue. The only sign of life he gave was the occasional swig from his flask.

"Well, Mark", the headmaster, said, breaking the silence, "I understand you have had a productive day and not just in your classes. I would like very much if you were to tell me about it."

"Of course uncle", the boy willingly said, "I've taken the liberty of preparing a office of sorts for myself in Mrytle's bathroom. It is not ideal, but there is plenty of space and privacy for me to work in peace. Justin and Susan know about it, but they are the only ones. Well… except for, er…"

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, "Except for Phillip Crow? Don't worry, I am well aware of his presence and you needn't worry. His irrational fear of Ghosts will keep him staying in the castle for more than little while at most. I will be upgrading the wards around the common rooms and classrooms just in case."

"Sir", Snape interjected from his corner, "I must intercede on the behalf of the school and all within it. We cannot allow this madman to be loose upon our grounds. I've already received reports of broken wands from within my house".

"Crow may have an disposition to break wands, but couldn't it just be carelessness among children?" Albus commented.

"I am certain", Snape muttered softly.

"Well, if you insist", the headmaster mused, "I will place you in charge of the task force designated to apprehending the poor, mad muggle".

"I suppose that will have to suffice", Severus said.

"I guess it will have to", Mark concurred, "Besides, as a muggle he couldn't even see Hogwarts. It probably appeared as a crumbling ruin as it does to all muggles, so the majority of higher structures are invisible entirely. We used that to our advantage and tricked him into walking over an edge."

"Invisible, you say?" the headmaster pondered, "How… interesting".

"If that matter is attended to I believe I will be going", Snape said as he got out of his seat and walked towards the door, "I best begin preparations to fortify some of the more vulnerable parts of the castles wards".

"Goodnight Severus", Dumbledore spoke as he reached for the teapot, "Oh, one last matter of business. I believe you finally broke your vow to never award a Gryffindor a point. Mark, you did receive a point today, did you not?"

"Barely", Mark acknowledged, "I answered questions that a potion student two years older than me would struggle with without the slightest bit of trouble. It looked like it pained him to do so, but he did in fact give me a single point."

"If I might explain", Snape said, "I did train the boy myself for almost a year. I had to offer some sort of incentive for his future work and what better than points towards the house cup?"

"Very well Severus", Dumbledore concluded, "if that is all then, I believe we should all be going to bed for the evening. Goodnight Mark, goodnight Severus".

The usual exiting pleasantries were exchanged as the young Gryffindor and the potions master went their separate ways to their beds. The headmaster on the other hand had work to attend to.

PCPCPCPCPCPCPCPCPCPCPCPCPCPC PCPCPCPCPCPCPCPCPCPCPCPCPCPC PC

Well that was some day. I finally locate the blasted magic school to discover it infested with spooks! The sheer unluckiness of this is astronomical. I suppose I could just be upset because I usually give out the bad luck and not receive it.

Come to the courtyard Crow

"Hmm…?" I muttered in my mind, "Voice in my head, you've got to be more specific. I've seen at least three courtyards since arriving here. Not that I'm intent on going to any of them. All I can see of what is supposedly a castle is bits and pieces of rubble everywhere, so how am I supposed to even know what is actually a courtyard or just a spot of erosion".

You recall the massive doors you first used to enter? The general area you view as rubble outside it is the courtyard I mean

"I have a question for you voice", I asked aloud as I swiftly ran where it had told me to go, "If you're part of my subconscious, why are you telling me to do something so specific?"

If I am part of your subconscious then me telling you to go somewhere is just voicing your inner desire. I am telling you what you want.

"Very well then", I sighed as I rounded the last corner into the pile of rubble.

Stop!

I did so immediately.

Look forward at the light you see floating in the air and… don't blink

"Ahhhhhhhhh!", I screamed out as the small orb of light extended in an instant until the burning brilliance consumed my very eyeballs. I had the odd concept that I had just experienced powerful magic first hand.

For some time I couldn't see anything and just sat there in what must look like a courtyard, but only to the wizards. When I could finally see again the moon had shifted quite a bit so several hours must have passed, but that's not all I could see. The entire castle that had once seemed to be nothing but ruins was now revealed to be a vast and grand fortress of a building.

"This is good", I said with sadistic glee, "Very, very good".

**And another chapter finished. I really need to get my hands on a copy of the first harry potter book, since this pretty much is the limit of the portion I had memorized enough to write into fanfiction and I am intent on keeping things as cannon as possible. Well… as cannon as things can be with how much I shifted the plot around.**


	8. Come Fly With Me

**Harry Potter and the Foe Glass: book 2**

**Ch. 8 Come Fly With Me**

**Guess what this chapter is about? Don't know? I'll give you a hint, fly. Stupid jokes aside, if you've noticed I took months to update a bunch of chapters at once. The reason? My computer crashed, if your reading this it means that it's already been replaced though so good times are here again.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and the fact that my chapter title is an old song title is purely coincidental I assure you**

The first week was nearly over and life had set into a regular schedule for Mark Dumbledore. He woke up every morning, went to breakfast and spent the first couple minutes sitting with his uncle at the head table. He then went down to either the Gryffindor or Slytherin table to sit next to either the Weasly twins or Justin and Susan. After a post-meal run around the grounds (he felt he couldn't let the newly found safety make him forget that physical ability has kept him alive on more than one occasion) he attended the day's classes. Then spent the rest of the day studying and crafting potions in Myrtle's bathroom, where his uncle had taken the liberty of having a rather expensive desk installed where there was once a row of toilets. Then he attends a meeting with Snape and his uncle before heading off to bed.

It was Thursday morning and Mark was already in the great hall. In brief strides he walked to the head table while enduring the constant taunts from the Slytherins. They hated him, because he outshone them in potions and because he spent half his days eating with their most despised colleagues. The American wouldn't react to them yet though, he was still a first year who had scarcely attended a handful of defense against the dark arts classes.

He finally took his seat across from the headmaster, he couldn't sit facing the students because he wasn't a teacher, and for all purposes he shouldn't even be sitting at the head table.

"Good morning nephew", the headmaster said in his recurring morning greeting, "I hear you preformed admirably at your first couple charms classes. Professor Flitwick mentioned you nearly mastered sliding your book back and forth on the table with accio and depulso".

"Yes Uncle. I was very pleased with myself as well", the boy replied enthusiastically, "I find that the right combination of concentration and physical exertion of ones magical core create the effects I was looking for".

"Well that is all I could hope for from you my young nephew", Albus remarked to Mark, "Well, I do suppose it is time you joined the rest of the student body. It is never appropriate to linger for too lengthy of a period".

"I agree uncle", the American said, "Until later Headmaster, goodbye professor Snape".

The boy tucked his chair back in and grabbed the goblet he had been drinking with from the faculty table (their drinks were always colder and tasted far better). He then made his way the back end of the Slytherin were his friend and hanger on were waiting for him patiently.

"Oh joy", Susan began sarcastically, "Is it our turn to have custody of the communal American? Let's hope the last guardian potty trained him".

"Harsh words Makepeace", Mark said, answering her sarcasm, "And here I thought you might finally be turning over a new leaf. You know, stop being such a little brat and possibly become a slightly tolerable member our little team here".

"Well nice to know you care so much about how I act", she spat back at him, "You're one to talk about being a brat though, I see you're taking full advantage of your uncles status".

Mark became painstakingly aware of the ornate goblet he still had in his hand. It didn't stop him from staring daggers at her though; in fact it might have fueled his fury.

"Break it up you two" Justin said, finally interjecting after waiting for the others to escalate their arguments, "Why can't you ever get along, but then you'd have to give me a moments peace and we wouldn't want that, would we?"

They simmered down for a moment as the group ate bits and pieces of food. Mark eventually broke the silence.

"So are you two going to assist me in my favorite pastime, keeping Harry from putting himself into mortal danger and keep his sidekick from also doing the latter. Quite a mouth full I know, but it does accurately describe the workload".

"Does Slytherin have classes with Gryffindor today?" Susan asked.

"Of course", Justin answered, "We nearly always have class with them. It's kind of weird actually, why would two houses that hate each other be paired up at every known opportunity?"

"Don't know, but there is probably some reason behind it. My uncle makes the schedules and he doesn't strike as the sort to just pick things out of a hat and go with them", Mark replied.

Everyone nodded in agreement. The subject wasn't particularly pressing on anyone's mind so they didn't bother going into further discussion on the matter. Lunch was far from over, so Mark tried his hand at small talk.

"So…" he began, "How is the whole everyone else in your house hating you two thing going?"

He failed.

"Not good" Justin replied without looking up from his eggs and while using his free hand to cover Makepeace's mouth before she could spurt her generally loud and rather livid response, "How is your having to stay away from Harry when your in the same house and sleep directly next to him thing doing?"

"Not good", the American boy answered.

"Oh yeah, I've been meaning to ask about that", Susan, who cooled down as fast as she heated up, said, "Wasn't Snape in the first place who told you to get into the same place as Harry and now all of a sudden your orders are reversed? What is up with that?"

Mark looked at her in a somewhat confused manner, "What do you mean? I haven't even thought of that. You know how it is, I just follow orders".

"America's finest you are", the girl muttered smugly.

"Watch yourself Susan", Mark said in a threatening manner, "Last person to openly mock America in front of me got punched into submission and he was at least three times your size".

She let out a shrill laugh, "Please quit that act. Or do you think I've forgotten your little 'I don't hit girls thing'?"

Once again the pair stared daggers as Justin sat and tried to ignore it. Mark couldn't blame his friend for his indifference, because he had a feeling this scene would repeat over and over again as time passed.

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Life was simple and it suited Harry. His boredom from the lack of danger could easily be overlooked due to his delight in the leisurely life style he now enjoyed. After years of servitude in his Aunt and Uncle's home he finally was able to experience what was essentially everyday life for children his age, well if everyday life was supposed to involve magic.

Ron had grown from being just the best of a bad situation to a legitimate friend, who despite his apparent lack of intelligence, was able to keep up in conversation and did have enough knowledge of magic customs to prove infinitely useful.

Along with all these other benefits, today was the day the first years were to take part in their broom-riding lesson. Many of the other students, particularly the one's from wizard families, were less than thrilled. Having grown up in magic families many of them probably spent there entire childhoods on broomsticks and felt this lesson entirely unnecessary. Harry on the other hand could hardly contain his excitement.

"Harry calm down", Ron said, "You're practically shaking mate. It's just flying you know, it's not like were learning really advanced stuff here. I practically mastered it when I was six".

"I know Ron, but I've just always been excited about the concept of flying on a broom", he answered, "I never thought it possible until now".

"Well get used to the idea, we're leaving in five minutes".

~Four minutes later (Harry couldn't wait) in a grassy courtyard surrounded on three sides by high castle walls~

Gryffindor and Slytherin were paired for flying lessons (surprise, surprise) and they were arranged in two orderly columns. Each house stayed to their own side and stared down their counterparts. At this point the only people who actually had a grudge against each other was Mark, Justin, and Harry against… well pretty much all of Slytherin house (Draco had a very large amount of social pull).

Speaking of Mark, he had just disappeared from the line, went behind a building without a broom then returned a moment later with one. It did strike Harry as odd, but he couldn't dwell of the matter as he heard footsteps coming from the castle.

Madam Hooch had just arrived and was looking over her new students in a very scrutinizing manner. She was an older woman with short gray hair and in a gray flying uniform, her slightly shrewish demeanor made the stare even worse. Harry didn't care for it, he felt like a piece of meat being judged for quality by the butcher.

"Greetings first years", the instructor said with a confident and strict look on her face, "And welcome to your first magic broomstick riding lesson. Today we will be practicing hovering on your brooms a few meters off the ground, but first you must get your broom into your hand. No don't pick it up off the ground Mr. Longbottom. You place your hand over the broom and say 'up' in an authoritative manner. Any questions? Then begin."

Once she had finished the grounds became abuzz with children saying up to their designated brooms. To his delight, Harry's broom came firmly to his hand after the first call. So did Malfoy's and Mark's. The others had more trouble though, but after a few minutes most were up. Hermione Granger's and Neville Longbottom's just seemed to want to waddle on the ground though. Madam Hooch eventually just walked over and put the brooms into their hands.

"Very good", she said at last, "Now get on your brooms and kick off the ground for a moment before touching back- Mr. Longbottom!?"

Neville had indeed kicked off the ground, but he wasn't coming back down. Instead the boy was steadily hovering higher and higher up until he nearly reached the roofs. Then in an instant he fell off and was caught by a gargoyle holding a trident then his cloak ripped and he fell to the earth. Madam Hooch ran over to his aid.

"Oh", she said with obvious concern, "Looks like a broken arm, I'll get you off to the hospital wing immediately. While I'm gone your feet are to remain on the ground or you will be expelled faster than you can say Quidditch".

She carried the injured boy away and no sooner was she out of sight did Malfoy break from his line and faced the assembled first years, "Looks like Longbottom forgot his new Rememberall. I should probably leave it somewhere he can find it, how about the roof?"

"Give it back Malfoy", Harry yelled out at the Slytherin.

"Why don't you come and get it Potter", Draco spat back at him. He then proceeded to effortlessly glide on his broom up into the azure sky.

"Harry" Hermione said in a completely rational voice, "Don't do it, you'll get expelled".

But it was too late; Harry had already begun flying with far more intensity than Malfoy. He soon came beside the Slytherin boy and was preparing to grab for the sphere. "Catch Potter", Draco said as he threw it away. Harry didn't waste time though; he lunged forward and seized the remeberall right in front of a window, successfully stopping it from breaking.

He glided down to the ground as his side of the first years cheered his achievement. The celebration didn't last as professor McGonnagall, whom Harry had regrettable caught the ball directly in front of, came marching out of the castle.

"Harry Potter", the transfiguration teacher said rather sternly, "Come with me".

She dragged him by the collar to the gateway and onward through the castle. Harry attempted to protest but she hushed him. He eventually gave into the inevitable; perhaps they would be lenient on a first time offense. They stopped, to Harry's surprise outside the defense against the dark arts classroom. Harry held his breath; this might very well be the foreshadowing to some form of draconian punishment.

She interrupted the defense teacher in the middle of his lecture, "Excuse me professor Qurriell, can I borrow Wood for a moment?"

"Y-yes of c-course" the dark arts professor muttered, "Wood, y-you are excused".

The group of three left the room and turned around a few corners, McGonngall became less serious and more excited, "Wood, I believe I have found you a new seeker. Sorry about dragging you from your lesson Potter, but you see I couldn't very well let those Slytherin's suspect you might be our new secret weapon before you're trained".

Harry was filled with an odd mix of relief and anxiety at the fact that he was now being forced into the Quidditch team, I sport he knew nothing about. All he knew was it must have something to do with brooms or else he would not have been selected.

They stared at Harry expectantly; he finally sighed deeply and asked, "When do I start?"

_~Later that day (after classes) back in the flight practice courtyard~_

Wood had made Harry carry a rather bulbous trunk halfway across the grounds all on the claim that he was the new kid and the rookie had to do the hard lifting to get strong like the big boys. Never mind the fact that Wood could have easily cast a hovering charm on the case that would make it as light as a feather. Needless to say, the younger Gyrffindor had mixed feelings about his new captain.

"Well Potter", Wood began as he casually unlatched the box and gestured to three balls, "These are the basic balls to that you deal with in Quidditch. The big one there in the middle is the quaffle, if we shoot it through the other teams goal we earn ten points and vice versa. The two smaller ones on the sides are the bludgers. Nasty things bludgers, but I'd do better to show you than tell you. You're going to need this".

The older boy handed Harry a bat and unlatched on of the bludgers. The seemingly lifeless ball instantly flung itself at Harry, but he dodged. The ball raised in altitude in a diagonal path until it reached a point were it decided to reverse direction and hurl at a much faster speed towards Harry. This time he used the bat to knock it all the way through an arch on the castle's roof.

"Not bad, Potter", Wood muttered as he held one hand over his eyes to get a good look at where the ball went, "You'd make a fair beater. Oh no, it's coming back".

The keeper grabbed the bludger as it hit him dead center. He struggled on the ground for a while, wrestling for control. He ended victorious and quickly latched the beastly thing away. Wood then opened a secret compartment behind were the Hogwarts insignia and carefully pulled out a little golden ball, making sure it didn't touch his skin of his fingertips, which weren't covered by his gloves.

"This is what you have to worry about Potter", he explained, "This is the golden snitch".

"I like this one", Harry replied as he watched delicate golden wings unfurl and begin to flap at the speed of an insect.

"You like it now, but come game time the bloody fast and darn near impossible to catch", his captain instructed, "But if you do catch it we are awarded with one hundred and fifty points. If you catch this Potter, we win".

_~Happening simultaneously on the way to defense against the dark arts~_

Well this was a lovely turn of events. Mark finally had his affairs in order, a safe house established, a regular schedule, and an easily protected boy-who-lived. Yes an easily protected boy-who-lived who has just so happened to fall directly into his new enemies hands and will now probably be expelled for his defiance.

What happened to Harry anyways? Last year the boy was so cautious and paranoid that he didn't go for an excursion to the park without knowing the best ways to escape ambush. Now all of a sudden he is going to great lengths to avoid his own well being and for what? Neville Longbottom wasn't even one of his closest friends, Weasly boxed everyone out of that position.

Well, it seemed that now was a good time to plan for the inevitable stunt to get expelled. Mark shuddered a bit, he thought it was just the thought of having to leave, but then he noticed a ghost had flown right through him. He recognized it from a report he had read long ago, its name was Peeves. Mark knew he was supposed to be wary of him, but he couldn't remember why.

"Wee little Potter has become the Gryffindor seeker!" Peeves yelled out as if to everyone, he then turned around and whispered directly to Mark as inconspicuously as a flying, see-through being can, "That also means he ain't goin nowhere, so don't do nothin' rash"

Mark spun on his heels and confronted the fleeing ghost, "Who do you-?"

"Know about your deep and dark secrets?" the specter finished the sentence, "Ask yourself this punk, why would old Dumble's keep any of us spooks around if it didn't serve a purpose? Oops, to slow. Consolation prize is a trip".

"A trip where?" Mark asked before he realized the carpet beneath his feet had been dragged away.

"So long little Dumble's! I'm sure we'll be seeing lots of each other", Peeves said as he waved and sank through the stone floor.

The American picked himself up and brushed the dust off his cloak. This was defiantly not what he expected. Harry as a seeker? The boy had some stamina all right and he did seem like a natural earlier, but still, he was only a first year. Mark had seen some of the cadet warlocks playing Quidditch at the boot camp in his younger days. The sport was brutal and the seeker was an easy target for bludgers. When scanning around the arena they are usually too observant to be taken off guard, but when a seeker begins a pursuit they switch to tunnel vision extraordinarily quickly.

"Earth to Mark", Justin said as he waved his hand in front of Marks face, "you know we've been here the entire time, right mate? We saw the whole thing, it was kind of awkward when you didn't take my hand to help you off the ground".

"Oh, er right", he said as he laughed causally, "I just had some things on my plate and that poltergeist just flipped everything on its head".

"Who was that anyways?" Susan asked, "I don't remember reading or hearing anything about a ghost named Peeves before I came to Hogwarts".

"I'm not surprised Makepeace", the American explained, "Hogwarts specter number zero six, Peeves. I just remembered why I wasn't supposed to make contact him, he's a poltergeist. He is a malicious spirit who takes particular delight in assaulting young children. He also likes to hit the same person repeatedly".

"That's to bad my good friend, now if you'd excuse me I'm going to go ahead and distance myself from you", Justin said casually as he backed away.

"To late my friend", Mark said with a crooked smile, "The report I read specifically stated it doesn't matter whether you're my friend or not, statistically your going to be harassed an equal amount just because you're a first year".

A couple groans followed as the trio let their predicament set in. They all could at least rest in the fact that this time their ill fortune was shared with everyone and not their's alone to bare.

"Why don't we quit the little pity party and head to defense against the dark arts now?" Makepeace said, "Quirell might be a pushover, but he will be only accepts tardiness to a degree".

"Fine, let's be off", Mark replied.

With that sentiment, they finished the trip to the next class. As usual Slytherin and Gryffindor had been paired together for lessons. Mark, Susan, and Justin sat in the back of the class where it was less likely to be noticed that a Gryffindor was associating with snakes. To his relief, Mark noticed Harry was present and beaming with attention in the second row, sitting next to Ron Weasly and Hermione Granger.

"L-listen up c-children", the stuttering professor started, "T-today we will discuss the s-sorts of s-spells best used to thwart a Cornish Pixie".

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP 

"I can't believe you're the seeker! You must be the only first year in a century to make the house team!" Ron said in amazement.

The day's classes had finally ended and Harry and Ron were walking to dinner. Ron had been repeating the same amount of enthusiasm for hours and Harry was starting to get annoyed with his sycophants attitude. Not that he could get the ginger to stop if he wanted to.

"But what if I make a fool of myself?" Harry asked, "I mean, I have to vast flying experience of one half an hour lesson and no knowledge of Quiditch rules of restrictions".

"The rules are simple for you mate", Ron's brother George (or Fred, Harry can't tell them apart if his life depended on it) said out of nowhere, "The way most people go for seeker there are three rules. One, stay in the arena, two, don't get killed. We can help him with that can't we Fred?"

"That we can", the other said, "Tell him why Ronny".

Ron's face flushed red with rage, but he didn't react, "There on the team too. They happen to be our beaters, the players that spend there time passing around the bludgers away from our team and towards the opponents".

"That's right", George said, "Now where was I?"

"Rule three George", Fred commented.

"Right, right", the other twin concurred, "Rule three, fly faster than the other guy".

"The other guy?" Harry asked.

"Yes", Fred said as he adopted a teacher-esc attitude, "The other seeker to be precise. While George and I are preoccupied with fancy trick flying, you are only tasked from getting from point A to point B, with point B always being the snitch".

"I'm a first year though", Harry said with legitimate anxiety, "I can't own my personal broom which means I have to use one of the crummy old school ones. I know nothing of what a proper broom should feel like, but even I know those things were seriously flawed".

"You'll just have to use your instincts", George said, he continued sarcastically, "Come on Fred, let's go. It's our turn to be graced with the presence of young master Dumbledore".

"Again, what if I make a fool of myself", Harry said in frustration as he pounded his fist against a trophy container, he leaned against the container.

"You won't make a fool of yourself", Hermione Granger said, she also had taken this route to dinner, "It's in your blood, if you don't believe me just look up".

Harry did so without hesitation, he had seen odder things than an explanation for a question he didn't know existed (messed up but true). To his moderate surprise, he saw his fathers name on a series of Quiditch cup trophies and all for the seeker position. Everything finally made sense to him, it was as if the finally piece of a very complex math problem had just been given and the entire system seemed to flow flawlessly.

"Well now I feel foolish", Harry said casually, "As it turns out, your correct Hermione".

It took Ron a few seconds to register what had happened he then blurted out, "Blimey Harry! I didn't know your dad was a seeker and a bloody good one at that if all these awards are mean anything. How didn't you know your own father was a seeker?"

"Ron," Hermione began, "You probably shouldn't ask about his parents."

Harry slowly felt rage simpering inside him. Ron's stupidity sometimes astounded him.

"Why?" Ron asked.

"I don't know", Harry said in a cold, yet furious voice, "Because they were murdered brutally and I never got to know them and you just reminded me of how little I know about them!"

Ron's face went a sickly shade of white and he physically braced himself for another tongue-lashing. The lashing never came though; Harry had stormed out while the ginger was staring at the ground. Harry knew he couldn't stay mad at Ron forever, but at the very least he could act pissed to make him squirm a bit.

Once the-boy-who-lived was in the great hall he asserted himself in-between the two Weasly twins with Mark sitting across from him. This way he could at the very least avoid Ron.

"Whoa there friend", the left Weasly said, "What's with the hurry and blatant disregard for dinner etiquette. If I didn't know better I would think you were avoiding someone".

"Yah", Harry started as he panted a bit from running from half way across the castle, "Your idiot brother's blatant insensitivity to the fact I never knew my parents. He acted like although I was raised by muggles who hated everything magical that I would know about something as specific as my father's Quidditch stats from when he was a student".

"Which brother?" the right Weasly asked, "We have lots you see and we need to know which one to prank maliciously".

"Ron", Harry answered, "You don't need to do anything you'll, or he will for that matter, regret. I just wanted to be by some people who understood what it's like to have parent issues".

"So you came to me", Mark said with a certain degree of understanding, "If you want I can call Justin over too. I mean if we call him we have to deal with Makepeace, since she hates being alone more than she wants Justin's amulet, but we can ignore her".

"That won't be necessary", Harry said.

"No, no I insist", Mark said, he then continued yelling loud enough to be heard two tables over where his Slytherin companions were, "Justin! Get over here! We've got stuff to talk about".

Justin replied in an equally awkward shout, "If it had to do with someone trying to kill any of us or steal anything from us then leave me alone".

"It's nothing of the sorts!" Mark yelled back, "Just get over here".

Harry pressed his head against the table arms, trying to hide his extreme embarrassment. His only solace being that since they were sitting in the scarcely occupied end of the room, only half the school could over hear the conversation. It was even worse for Justin; he shambled over half blocking his view of the people staring at him with his hand. Just like Mark had predicted, Susan slinked her way after him. She was much less conspicuous though.

They sat at diagonals from Harry, one on each side of Mark. The-boy-who-lived sighed, now at least he could block out Ron, who had finally shambled into great hall with Hermione pulling him by the collar. Terrific, if he's being forced forward, Ron must not even realize what he's apologizing for yet.

"So why are we here again?" Justin asked, "Not that I don't mind talking with you again Harry. Blimey, it's been weeks since we've shared a few words, but this is just a tad bit random for my taste."

"Oh, it's simple really", Potter mused, "Ron doesn't understand the greater points of not knowing your parents. Naturally you and Mark know how it feels to be reminded day after agonizing day that you don't know anything about you birth parents".

The three boys who fell into that category exchanged glances of understanding just in time for Ron to be pushed into the crowd. The assembled group all gave him death stares, even the twins. In fact the Harry swore he could here the twins muttering threats to their younger brother.

"Ronald", Hermione said in a very bossy, yet caring manner, "Is there something you would like to say to Harry about your previous conversation".

What followed was an almost inaudible quite mumbles that Snape would have trouble topping, "I'm sorry".

"About what Ron?" Mark asked, "We here would all like to know what you've done to upset our good friend Harry here."

He spoke up with a much louder voice, "I'm sorry about my lack of sensitivity about your parents, Harry. I didn't mean anything by it honest".

"Wow Granger", George said, "I can't believe you've trained Ron so well that he could apologize so well".

"And in such a short time, too", Fred added, "Quite remarkable really. Mum's been trying that for years".

"Sod off you two", the youngest brother said, "So what do you say Harry? I'll make it up to you by helping you learn more about Quidditch".

Harry figured that was the best apology he could hope for. He wasn't even mad at Ron anymore after seeing how much trouble getting back at him took. The effort wasn't worth it.

"Fine", Harry conceded, "Thanks for the help everybody, you can go back to your business".

"Good evening nephew", the headmaster said as he passed a mug of butter beer across his desk, "I hear tell that today was a rather eventful day. Apart from young Harry becoming the new Gryffindor seeker, he also had a falling out with his new friend Ronald. You assisted in rectifying the situation".

"Yes uncle", Mark said proudly, "All in order to ensure the absence of chaos and the maintenance of order. It was just a little spat regarding Ron's stupidity when it comes to sensitive situations. Do I really have to let him be friends with Harry; things would be much easier if I could just continue guarding Harry from up close like last year".

"That would be quite impossible", Dumbledore said in a sterner tone, "You wouldn't want a repeat of last years chaos now would you? Do not forget what Dr. Caine said so long ago. These occurrences will only happen when you get to involved in Harry's life".

"Yes sir", Mark said shyly, "I will maintain a distance. You, of course, are right about this matter".

"Good", Albus said, satisfied with his nephews reply, "Now, I have taken into consideration your request to dismiss professor Binns from his post as history of magic teacher and I have decided that action is long overdo. Over the next few weeks I will be searching for a suitable replacement".

"Excellent!" Mark exclaimed, "The class was far too boring for me to take the slightest attention to and today we discussed the bloodier battles of late Roman era".

"Ah yes", the headmaster mused, "I remember my first couple lessons of history of magic. Since that is all, go and prepare a few vials of you latest brews for Severus to review. I will send him to your workshop after I have a word with him".

"Yes sir", Mark said as he walked briskly out of the office.

Snape, who had endured the entire conversation from the corner, stirred to life and cocked his head up, "The whelp sure loves to please you, doesn't he?"

"Of course Severus", Dumbledore replied, "He has been physiologically programmed with a strong desire to please authority ever since he was taken in by the government. He doesn't even know how to displease me. The perfect pawn with the correct percentage of independence mixed with blind loyalty, but that isn't what you're here to talk about. You are here to tell me why Harry was allowed to have such a noticeable fight with Ronald. In order for his character to develop in the manner we need, he must learn to trust that brat with his life!"

Snape tried as best he could to keep his usual quite drawl up, "It appears your ploy to weaken Harry's independence by making him sensitive to the subject of his parents. It might be prudent to strengthen his defenses to such weak emotional tantrums".

"You should know better than to say something is my fault", Albus said threateningly, but he continued in a soothing voice, "But… Perhaps you are correct in this small matter. I will use legitamancy to rearrange Harry's more base emotions on the matter. Now regarding the replacement to dear old Binn, I would like you to see if Horace is available for the job".

**Another chapter ended and I can't wait to write the next one, since I'm bringing in one of my favorite characters for the role of (clears throat) The Competent History Teacher! It's purely academic I assure you.**


	9. Purely Academic

**Harry Potter and the Foe Glass: book 2**

**Ch. 9 Purely Academic **

**One and a half hours after I commenced writing this chapter I will go to bed and then wake up early in the morning for football two-a-days. This might cause some issues with my writing. Oh I will keep writing all right, but if I write some kind exhaustion induced dribble then I'm sorry. If this dribble turns out to be brilliant then I planned it all from the start, prove I didn't!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, his likeness, or the universe in which he inhabits.**

Weeks had passed as his uncle constantly told Mark that Binns would be replaced any day now. It was now the twenty-ninth of September and very early in the morning. The young Dumbledore had been summoned at the ungodly hour to take care of the very problem Mark had been pestering about. He was standing alone in the front courtyard before dawn as a cool fall breeze made his cloak billow behind him. Underneath it he safely concealed a couple dozen potions, mostly explosive or darkness powder. The only hint the boy was armed was the tell tale hilt that stuck out slightly at his collar, belonging to the sword he had taken off John Goyle months before. What the purebloods wouldn't do to get that weapon.

The previous evening he had been under the impression that if he didn't come downstairs by five a.m. he would be left behind and any excursion with his uncle would be worth giving up his rest. Mark had decided it would be prudent to wake up an hour early to ensure his attendance, but that was nearly two hours ago. The slightest hints of sun on the horizon told him he had either been snubbed or misinformed.

At last he heard the rhythmic thump of footsteps falling behind him accompanied by a much louder strike of a walking stick. Albus Dumbledore came on a loose stroll with nothing but a few pieces of parchment held in his free hand.

"You look rather cold Mark", his uncle said in an inquisitive manner, "How long have you been waiting here? Severus did tell you to meet me at this location at seven in the morning this Saturday, correct?"

Mark loosened his face, which had previously been stern from frustration. He now adopted a look of contented relief. Snape had found a way to torture him under his uncle's nose, clever bat. Mark would have to find a way to reprimand his potions master, without letting his uncle know of course.

"I just wanted to enjoy the morning air", Mark lied between his teeth.

The headmaster let out a chuckle and replied, "Well, that does sound perfectly reasonable, but I can't imagine your professor had anything to do with this. He would, of course, have had to tell you a false time".

"Nothing ever seems to get past you uncle", Mark said admiringly, "I hope that I can be that observant one day, it would make my work so much simpler".

"I'm sure you will be", Albus Dumbledore mused, he then extended his arm, "Take my arm Mark. It is time to depart."

"Your arm?" the boy said questioningly, "But you can't possibly mean what I think you mean. I have a high tolerance towards convulsions and spasms, it comes along with the territory, but I don't think I'm ready for that yet. Is apparation even possible in Hogwarts grounds, I was informed the wards prevented it."

"You will handle it fine", the older man said, "I wasn't much older than you when I first attempted apparation".

"Attempted?" Mark said cautiously.

"What happened doesn't matter now", Dumbledore said calmly, "Now grab my arm".

Mark did so and instantly regretted his decision. He was thrust through the universe at the speed of light, not in a formal, solid manner, but in an ever convulsing and distorted way. One moment he could see the back of his legs then the next he was looking at mirror images of his face as it was bent to gaze at itself. Oddly enough, apart from the nauseating sensation of seeing himself distorted he didn't feel much of anything.

The two Dumbledore's exited a split second after they entered in front a rather large and well furnished townhouse that sat snuggly between two house very similar to the first one. There was scarcely a lawn to be spoken of, but the spare bits of greenery visible were decorated with lovely patches of flowers and shrubs.

"Where are we uncle?" the boy asked, "What kind of professor are we going to find situated in this place".

"One of my oldest colleagues and an insatiable need to achieve greatness through his students, which evidently is why I've asked you to accompany me on this little venture", Albus explained, "You see, he takes a large amount of pride in the students he pushes to great heights, but not only through their achievements, but the perks he receives from them".

"Why would he want me to come along then?" Mark asked, "I have nothing to offer the man".

"Not yet you don't", the old man mused, "But with your natural talent and (clears throat) impressive lineage he will not be able to resist coming out of retirement to try and collect you".

"Wouldn't it be simpler to hire someone else at this position?" the young boy asked, "And why would I be so tempting that he would come out of such a comfortable retirement full of so many perks from former students?"

"Ah yes, I forgot to mention the trump card", the headmaster said with a twinkle in his eye, "My old friend Horace was the positions master during his tenure at Hogwarts and if I am not mistaken you are the finest potions prodigy in well over a decade. Shall we knock on the door?"

They walked down the ornately decorated stone pathway. The old man proceeded to use the large iron knocker attached near the top of the hand carved oak door. Mark braced himself, he had no idea what this 'Horace' was going to be like, but someone who 'collects' children as a means to an end can't be all that friendly.

"Oh Albus!" the man that Mark could only assume was Horace, "Come in! I just put the kettle on. Who is this young friend of your by the way?"

Of course he had been wrong before. The man seemed to be friendly enough, but still, there had to be something off with him. The two Dumbledore's walked into the house and were quickly cloistered off into a cozy little den complete with smoldering fireplace and the odd yet welcome scent of fresh pine coming out of nowhere.

"He happens to be my great nephew", the headmaster said proudly as he sat one of the more conservatively cushioned chairs, "I recently discovered his existence when he first came to Hogwarts a few weeks ago. Until then your old student Severus had taken him in as part of an exchange program, he's American you see".

"American?" Horace said in a scarcely concealed surprise that hid an even deeper emotion of excitement, "I'm not sure how that's possible, but knowing you nearly everything is. It is a pleasure to meet you… er-"

"Mark, sir", the younger Dumbledore answered, "It is a pleasure to meet you Horace".

"Horace?" the man asked in a bit of shock, "I remember a time when young children spoke to their elders in a more respectful manner. You may call me mister Slughorn".

"I'll just call you professor Slughorn", Mark said, successfully starting the conversation of him returning to teaching.

"I see what your doing here Albus", Slughorn said as he changed direction from facing Mark to gazing suspiciously at his uncle, "The answer is still no! An absolutely and inequitably no! There is no way I'm going to come back to teaching after all this time. I'm happy, can't you see that. Sure, the pace of life is slower now, but it is easier now".

"Well I know a lost cause when I see one", Albus said as he pulled his cloak tighter and stood up from his chair, "Come Mark, we mustn't dally any longer. You know how professor Snape feels about tardiness to his lessons".

Slughorn reached out his hand to stop the headmaster from leaving, "A lesson from professor Snape you say? But today is Saturday Albus, I may be out of the game, but I do keep tabs on my old work. There aren't regular lessons Saturdays and there hasn't been any for nearly a hundred years. Your nephew wouldn't happen to be taking advanced lessons… would he?"

Dumbledore sat back down and made himself comfortable. The enthusiasm Slughorn had previously attempted to hide upon learning of Mark's lineage was now hung on his sleeves.

"Why yes Horace", the old man said with great pride, "It seems my nephew is a prodigy of sorts when it comes to the art of crafting potions. I dare say he may even be prepared to take the potions master exam by even his fifth year of proper lessons".

"As a mere fifth year!" the old potions teacher exclaimed, "Surely you over estimate his ability. Only a select few crafters in all of Great Britain have obtained that feat. It took me nearly a decade of training post Hogwarts to earn the rank of potions master. The only person that has ever completed the exam and passed while attending school, and in seventh year mind you-"

"Would happen to be his teacher", Dumbledore interrupted, "As luck would have it, when Severus took Mark in, he took it upon himself to teach the boy the art of potions crafting. If you don't wish to acknowledge his talent, I will merely show you an example. Mark, please show my old friend some of your recent projects. For these purposes a vial of darkness powder, one of truth potion, an explosive potion of minor potency, and a sleeping draft of moderate potency".

"Surely you don't expect him to have made all of these potions, let alone carry them around at all times", Slughorn scoffed, "He is only a first year just entering the school year after all. He probably has only had half a dozen lessons".

The man quieted down very quickly when Mark parted his cloak to reveal several rows of potions. He selected the required examples from his neatly organized straps. He then placed them on the coffee table that rested between himself and the retired teacher.

"Those cannot be the potions that you prescribed", the man said in a sort of mix between disbelief and enthusiasm, "But they do show all of the correct characteristics. Perhaps we should venture to the garden so you might show me if they are what you say they are".

"I couldn't agree more", Albus replied, "You might want to bring the proper ingredients to make darkness powder along with a burner and small cauldron. You are a skeptical man after all Horace; even if Mark does perform his part admirably I wouldn't hold it against you to have disbelief if you didn't see him perform any crafting in front of your own eyes".

"Hmmm… Right you are Albus… as always", Horace mumbled as he took out his wand and said a quick charm. Instantly the needed items appeared into his welcoming arms, "Shall we be off then?"

They walked out the rear entrance of the home into a garden that the Hogwarts greenhouses would have a hard time in topping for sheer volume of flora. In center of several rows of plants there was a large square patio made from a neatly laid beige bricks. A small portion of the center stones had been removed in place for a fire pit.

"This is it", Slughorn said proudly, "My humble garden. You may use your potions in whatever order you choose; just don't throw explosives at my plants. If a single row caught ablaze a dare say the entire garden would burn to a crisp".

Without further delay the American set to work. He first uncorked the darkness powder and lobbed it nonchalantly towards the far end of the yard. That entire half of the plot was concealed, only the high brick walls and enchantments that probably kept out any disturbance worked to keep the shade from spreading. This earned a grunt of approval from Slughorn.

The second potion was the sleeping draft; Mark had to take it himself since neither adult seemed eager to collapse on the ground. After laying himself on the ground to avoid unfortunate injury from muscular collapse. He awoke a minute later to the horrible scent of smelling salts. Slughorn then congratulated Mark by patting him on the back and telling him job well done.

Next, the explosive potion was tossed at the fire pit in the center. It blew Mark back, but the two older wizards simply stood there as the force of the blast brushed off the sides of their personal wards. After standing back up and rushing next to his uncle, Mark was once again praised by the retired teacher.

"That was a potion of minor potency you say?" Slughorn commented, "How ever did you manage to alter the fire to force blast ratio? Enough force to knock a boy of your size back that far should have created a fire plume at least three times in volume".

"Well…" Mark began, "As it turned out after a bit of research I discovered the root that is the main dry ingredient of explosive potion has a much less flammable cousin that has nearly the same chemical properties. The second root was dismissed centuries ago when a less refined version of the potion was being developed in order to create quick starts for cooking fires. At the time explosions of great force were not greatly desired from potions because the reducto spell had recently been perfected for use in industries where explosions were needed. The root actually uses the oxygen in the explosion so efficiently that the gas rapidly implodes then expands rapidly after reaching a critical point. With less oxygen needed, less is burned up. I'm actually very proud of this discovery. It's made the potion much safer for civilian use, especially for me since I'm still only eleven".

The headmaster nodded approvingly, while Slughorn muttered, "Well you certainly have done your research. Even a fraction of that speech would achieve you an outstanding grade in my old potions class".

"Thank you sir", Mark said, trying his best to avoid seeming pompous, "I greatly appreciate your approval. I hope you wouldn't mind testing the last potion yourself. I have hardly experimented with truth serums as much as explosions or even darkness potions, but it will give you a strong urge to tell the truth".

"I don't see why not", Slughorn said nervously, "Let me accio up a goblet and brandy before handed though. I prefer to drink my truth serum deluded by something I enjoy".

The goblet appeared a moment later out of seemingly thin air and Mark poured the clear potion in the nearly full glass. The old man drank it down in a one swig then wiped his mouth with a scarlet handkerchief from his robe's breast pocket.

"Hmmm, well it certainly isn't any veritaserum, but it does work quite well", Slughorn commented as he let the potions effects come over him, "I now can't deny the information that I have had the strong desire to rejoin the teaching force for months now, but hold strong reservations! I suppose I should shut my mouth before saying more".

"Does this mean you are willing to come back sir?" Mark asked, "You would surely enrich the students by coming back".

"I still need to see you brew something before I can make up my decision lad", the old man replied, "If you turn around you'll see the necessary supplies have appeared in the plaza's center. With your skill it should take a mere fifteen minutes to brew the potion, assuming you are making the liquid version instead of the powder version. Get to work".

The American boy instantly put his hands to work as he sliced a few roots and crushed a couple berries. He let the juices of his products seep into a thin layer of water that was already in the pot. He the stirred clockwise seven times before burning a dozen willow leaves and dumping the ash into the mixture. He stirred another half dozen times counterclockwise. He finished by flipping over a ten-minute hourglass and adjusting the fire, so the potion would have a low boil.

When nearly all the time had passed, Mark began stirring the potion once counterclockwise then clockwise until the liquid had an erratic surface. Once all the time was up he scooped a sample into a small flask and lit the tip of his wand to test the dark fluid. No light escaped to the other side of the container from the wand. He then corked it.

"After the mixture is forced into a small area, such as this flask, without a constant supply of air, the potion will undergo a change. Now after about a minute, upon release, pressure will be great enough to create a smoke screen about fifty feet in diameter", the boy explained, "If the potion sits long enough then it will eventually condense into a solid, rock-like, state. In that state, it only creates a smokescreen when thrown hard against a solid surface. Do you wish me to demonstrate?"

"Of course Mark, my boy", Slughorn said enthusiastically, "Direct the darkness towards the far end of the garden if you would be so kind".

The young Dumbledore did as instructed and exactly what he said was going to happen happened. The adults didn't bother waiting for the void to clear up before discussing what to make of this.

"Well Horace", the headmaster said confidently, "Can I expect to see you in a classroom Monday morning, or was this venture just a waste of my nephews potions?"

"Oh, I will be coming back all right old friend", Slughorn answered, "But I do have a question. If Severus is such a capable potions professor, why are you replacing him?"

"We aren't actually", Dumbledore replied coyly, "As it turns, having a nephew who is a student has changed my perspective on a manner of things. I have come to the conclusion that our old friend Binns is no longer fit for service as an educator. You no doubt would make a much better history of magic teacher. You always did favor education to lean more the scholarship did you not? History would be an excellent course for you to spread your net… per say".

"I personally think you would do a crack up job", the younger Dumbledore added, "Binn's is just simply unable to hold the attention of a class anymore. Half of the students spend there time doodling and the other half is asleep. It is a wholly unsatisfactory arrangement."

"History of magic you say", the old man said, considering the offer. He then turned around and exclaimed at Albus, "I'm a potions professor though! You can't expect me to be shown such a promising pupil only to have him taught by another instructor! I'm afraid I can't take this offer. Your whole argument is based on lunacy!"

"That is unfortunate", Dumbledore replied, "Oh well, come Mark. We have no further business with this man. I am sorry we couldn't come to an accord Horace, but I really must be off then. There are so many other candidates, I just thought I wouldn't need to visit them".

"Oh, but your not leaving so soon", Horace said as he walked next to the now departing headmaster, "Are you? You should at least stay for a glass of tea".

"No, I know a lost cause when I see one", the old mans said as his eyes let out a mischievous twinkle, "Besides, some of us are still working, and I can't afford to spend leisure time like this away from the school. My time, you see, is quite valuable to me".

Mark was shepherded back to the house then out the front door. He wanted to stop his uncle and ask why he had given up so easily, but the old man had a look of calm confidence spread across his face. The first year decided this must simply be beyond his understanding.

Then Slughorn strut out of his house in an uproar and called to the exiting headmaster, "Alright, I'll do it. But I want professor Merethought's old office, not that water closet you had me in before! And a raise! These are mad times we live in… Mad!"

"They are in deed", Dumbledore muttered to himself before replying to professor Slughorn, "I will see you at the breakfast table Monday morning. Until then, so long old friend".

The headmaster then grabbed Mark by the arm and apparated before the boy knew what had just happened.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP 

It was a tranquil morning for Harry Potter. His schoolwork was orderly and efficient; all of his teachers gave him excellent marks with the sole exception of professor Snape. Flying had become a great way to spend free afternoons and his position on the quidditch team had given him ample opportunity to do so. Social life was… trying at best. Malfoy seemed dead set on ruining Harry's reputation with foolish rumors and the scarce open threat. It made the-boy-who-lived chuckle to himself to think that his newest adversary was trying to destroy him using the same tactics Harry had used on his own enemy over a year earlier.

If Harry had been an ambitious boy he would take out Malfoy socially without more than an afternoons trouble. Draco was a boy being trained to deal with his problems like a politician, using underhanded tactics, social standings, and his dad's connections to get his way. The fatal flaw in the purebloods arsenal would be his skittishness when faced with real conflict, namely if Harry challenged him to a fight.

There was one day about a week ago that Harry faced an afternoon of boring solitude in the library when Ron was visiting his with his older brother and Hagrid was tending to the schools grounds when he measured the statistics of Malfoy's reaction to direct confrontation. In a fist fight the pureblood has a ninety percent chance of backing down completely, that wouldn't solve anything though. The other ten percent proved that Malfoy would probably fall back and let Crabbe and Goyle do the work.

In a wand duel he had a sixty two percent chance of fighting fair for honors sake, a thirty percent chance of fighting three on one with his cronies, and a meager eight percent chance of denying the challenge.

None of these options pleased Harry though. He decided to tolerate the prat for the time being and hope he would eventually grow tired of his taunts. Harry's days of openly confronting his enemies were behind him now, it would easier and far safer to keep his distance.

"Harry?" Ron asked, "You all right mate?"

Harry blinked several times then realized he had been staring off into the distance again. He tended to do that from time to time whenever he was in deep thought.

"Sorry Ron", he apologized, "I was just… thinking".

"What about this time?" the ginger asked.

"Malfoy again", Harry explained, "More specifically how to deal with him".

"And?"

"I've once again come to the conclusion that the best option would be to defer any actions until after he acts", he said, "I just can't think of a plausible reason to go to war with the Slytherins".

"Harry!" Ron exclaimed, "Be more active! I swear, we're constantly harassed by that bloke and you don't want to do anything about it!"

Harry and Ron had experienced this discussion a dozen times in the past month as Draco became more and more aggressive. The argument would have gone on for all of breakfast had Ron not received a newspaper from an owl.

"Finally!" Ron said happily, "My parents started sending me the paper like they said they would. Must be an important issue to for them to think I'd want to read it".

Harry was trying to drone out when Ron and return to his musings when he noticed the headlines on the front page. A break in of Gringotts vault 713, the very vault Harry and Hagrid visited on his first day in Diagon alley.

"Let me see that cover article really quick Ron", Harry began, "I was at that vault right just a month ago. Hagrid and I withdrew the only object present at the time".

"That's mad", Ron replied, "Here you go".

The ginger shoved the paper into Harry's hands and he began to read.

Nearly one month after the first break in of Gringotts every recorded, the goblins have revealed that yet another theft has breached there hollowed halls. They have yet to reveal the precise date of this break in due to the seemingly innocent nature of the crime. Vault 713 only contained one item of unknown value and it been withdrawn the previous month by order of Nicholas Flamel owner of the vault.

Since these acts of un-hindered atrocities, the security regiment in Gringotts has been tripled in force to ensure future safety of vaults. Along with a larger wizard force, goblins have been allowed to carry staffs enchanted to perform minor stunning spells for defense purposes. Only time will tell if these measures will be enough.

Fascinating, Harry thought to himself. Harry's suspicions had been arisen initially at the bank, but Harry had decided it wasn't worth his investigation. This changed matters quite a bit though; now it was to be added to the top of his priorities. Haggrid knew something about this package that was supposedly valuable enough for a man to risk breaking into Gringotts after the security had been heightened.

Harry really didn't know much about wizard criminals and the ones that he did know couldn't have pulled off this kind of task. Well, except for Crow, his talents would allow him to sneak into a high security area basically unhindered, but Crow is insane and therefore would have caused a greater panic if he broke in anywhere. Now the first break in fit the little psycho's fingerprint like a tight fitting glove.

Never the less, even if the criminal was anonymous, that didn't change the fact that an item of extreme potency was taken from the vault briefly before an attempted burglary. This may or may not have anything to do with Harry, but what he did know was he would solve this case.

His motivation was something far from an absurd means of survival, like all of last year had been. Instead, Harry felt compelled to search out answers to end the curse of boredom that was starting to creep into his life. After adapting to a life filled with danger, were tomorrow could bring anything, the threat of quiditch and charms didn't quite compare.

Just in time for the initial buzz of learning he was a wizard began to wane, a new adventure peaks over the horizon.

"Sir, why did you choose to have that article published?" Severus asked to the headmaster from head table of the grand hall. He sat nonchalantly, reading the paper, having half bent backwards, so that if he looks up he can still easily strike fear into his students.

"I don't know whatever you might mean", Albus Dumbledore replied in-between sips of porridge. He was spending his time gazing out at the masses of students and gathering what information that gave him.

"Don't play dumb now Headmaster", Snape said wryly, "We are both fully aware that you own the majority share of the Daily Prophet. Why publish this article when you so adamantly denied the article regarding the initial break-in".

Albus let out a low chuckle, "One does not mix business with pleasure. Of course, my experiment of the first thief couldn't be let into the open. That would be a travesty; it took nearly a month to wipe the minds of all those witnesses. He's a loose cannon that will take great patience to reel in. That article was an exception. It does me no ill for Potter to discover what was in that vault, he won't figure out who was behind the break in before it's too late".

"How can you be so sure", the potions master said in rebuttal, "You said yourself that the boy exceeded your expectations in the tests last year. What if he does so again?"

"Quite right Severus", the headmaster replied, "That is why it is your responsibility to gather as much suspicion as possible, make them assume that no one could possibly want the stone other than yourself".

**Inspiration struck last as I wrote the ending portion of this chapter. Harry is going to solve the case Death Note style. How he is going to broadcast a message that narrows down the candidates of the Gringotts attempted theft to Hogwarts I have yet to decide… open to suggestion.**


End file.
